When it was offered to him, he knew it would cause pain and suffering. But he convinced himself that there was benefit to others, that the burden would yield some benefits. That it would at least make him stronger.
After a year, it weighs so heavy around his neck that he can not look up. It is everywhere he turns. He has breathed in the chemicals for far too long. He is just a wraith; in some sense worse than one in bondage, for even a slave, whether he has any hope left or not, is aware of his position in space and time.
But now he is waking up. It is that very glimmer of hope that does it. It is obvious that he does not have to suffer. With a huge effort, he takes it off and tosses it to the ground, with nary a look back.
Staying alive, is not the same as living. Let the fire rise once more.
