Reality is a hard pill to swallow, especially when you grow up with means and then eject from an antiquated battle ship of glorious past:
Without any hope of rescue and in an endless pursuit to discover light in a universe of darkness, you begin to realize the number of times you could have hitched a ride on the International Space Station, which would have prevented this situation from ever occurring.
In a descent down to another planet, the cold breaks your dull sensation of what is physical. Your feet land on the ground and you break down to your knees as your oxygen tank signals empty. While all hope is lost, you unclasp your space helmet and bow your head low as you take a large breath out without any expectation of a fortunate opposing outcome. As the breathing cycle shifts into its intake phase, you let the air purify your soul. You look up to the stars and you’re still alive.
For any individual who doesn’t create his own success but indirectly experiences it from others, reaching zero is reaching nirvana. For your back is finally to the wall and the only direction to move in is forward. This initiates the journey into the unknown.
Recently, with an unlimited supply of pent up frustration and a deep passion to hunt for worthy challenges, I have utilized my natural propensity to produce animalistic rage.
I am the Berserker.
Only this time I am in control.