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I saw him cross the street. He didn't see me. That was how it began. I saw him. He didn't see me. And then there was power coursing through my veins and I felt alive, so alive, alive through every moment of space and time: an infinite being, for the moment, the most powerful creature in existence, burning through every inch of the universe. And then it faded again.
They call us "The Lonely Assassins." Maybe that's their way of empathizing with us. They call us lonely because they think they would be lonely, if they were in our situation, and they call us assassins because - I don't know why they call us assassins.
But what is loneliness? Is it simply being alone? We are not alone. We have each other. We hear each other. We speak to each other, images and sounds echoing through our beings, so that we know without being told. We share what we know. We only exist when we are completely unobserved, only when we are at our most individual, only when we have the greatest ability to be true to ourselves. They hide in plain sight, lying to each other, shaping themselves into that which they feel they are expected to be, and then, when they're alone, when they feel that they can be who they truly are, they've forgotten who it is. The greatest liars in the world. They are never true. Not us. We are honest.
I looked up the definition for the word assassin. We are not assassins. We do not kill. They do not call lions assassins when they prey on zebra; neither should they give that title to us. They are slow, and childlike, and are still too young to realize their spot in the universal ecosystem. They believe themselves to be the top predators that exist. They do not acknowledge an ecosystem grander than their small planet. They will learn.
We know nothing but this grand cycle of gold and grey, of hunger and fulfillment. It is a primal urge, an instinct as natural as breathing. To change this would be to deny what we are, and to do that - that would be dishonest.