不連続存在

  Dread—my life has been reduced to one single word: dread. From the very day of my birth until this very moment, I have been plagued by an overwhelming sense of dread. How did my life spiral into this state? Why have I found myself committing such heinous crimes? It all seems inexplicable. There was no discernible reason for me to have carried out those terrible acts. None at all. So, why did I do it? If there was no reason whatsoever, then what compelled me? What dark force guided my actions? How could something emerge from nothing? After all, nothing signifies the absence of anything, a complete void. So, how could nothingness transform into a tangible existence? Can something that doesn't exist truly manifest itself? 

  Furthermore, is it possible for something that currently exists to cease its existence altogether? If nothing can metamorphose into something, does it not follow that something can also undergo a reversal and become nothing once more? These existential questions consume me. Where am I? Who am I? I remember a time when I was nothing—an inconspicuous entity, devoid of an identity. Then, in some unfathomable manner, I was there And now, as abruptly as it began, I was gone.