Myself.

In my Zarathustra retreat surrounded by: trees, flowers, mountains, peace, love, and solitude. I found something.
Perhaps I found myself.

I am who I am. I do what I feel, when I feel the need to do them. I speak with a light tone, a tone that carries heavy consequence, a free tongue nonetheless. I do things that benefit myself, because a wise old hermit once praised the overman. I am my own overman amongst those whom are staring at an abyss that does not stare back for them.

I do not carry a label to my name. That has recently ended. I am who I want to be, at the exact moment that I want to be it. I do not carry flags for my friends, family, nor for myself to everyday battle anymore.

I am here. I will not be here forever. So I will live until the waves of my essence subside from crashing the shores of life.