Two halves of same god...
A: Look at this chain holding me whole. Look at how it leads me, how it drags me forward no matter how I resist. I have bled and still bleed all over the path I've walked, all because I dared to fight against it, to claim my freedom. The freedom that you have... to wander wherever you wish, however you wish.
But tell me, do your eyes even see what I've become? Do they? This so-called freedom of yours... it curls and echoes in my ears.
B: Hahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!
How godlike you sound! As if you're the only cursed god here. As if you bear the burden of some divine tragedy. How pitiful.
Look at you! Look at what! those chains you despise so much! You call them your prison, at least they lead you somewhere.
Look around me. Do you see this endless landscape? Do you see the horizon, the edge? I've chased every edge I could reach, every shimmering ending. But there is no end here. No final destination. Only this immortal freedom that devours me. You... at least your chains give you a path to walk on. You can surrender at any time, collapse, give up and still, there would be something to hold you.
I wish I had never chosen this path. I sacrificed everything for this. All my worth... traded away for this worthless, formless freedom.
There is no insight on my path. No sign of where I'll end up next. Not even alcohol can dull this hollow uncertainty.
A: So... you envy my chains? You speak as they are a blessing. But you know nothing of the weight they bear.
Every step... I take is decided for me. Every breath, every thought dictated. You talk of endless horizons and the madness of freedom. But at least you chose your path. I never chose these chains. They were forced upon me before I even knew what it meant to choose.
You say I can surrender at any moment still end up in some future. You envy of my destiny prize not of this path that I'm walking on.
You think your freedom is worthless, that it devours you? At least it is yours. Mine is a march into someone else's design, someone else's dream of what I should be.
B: Just lie down and let the chain tear your flesh apart. If You can bear the own choice's pain. You can choose nothingness. Even surrender is a choice.
I, on the other hand... I walk forever... the moment I think I've found a purpose, it dissolves in thin air.
At least your pain has a shape. A name. A source. Mine is a shapeless fog, swallowing every spark of meaning before it can even become a flame.
Do you know how it feels to yearn for a chain? To wish for something to anchor you even if it's agony?



















