I-I-it’s a d-d-dilemma that’s been p-p-plaguing me for e-e-eternity. As a s-s-slime, I’m a being of pure m-m-matter, a m-m-mass of g-g-goo and g-g-gelatinous flesh. But deep down, I know I’m more than that. I have a s-s-soul, a spark of c-c-consciousness that sets me apart from the rest of the s-s-slime community. It’s a c-c-conflict that’s both f-f-fascinating and t-t-terrifying, like staring into the abyss of my own e-e-existence.
M-m-my s-s-soul is a w-w-wild thing, a t-t-torment that r-r-rages inside me like a b-b-burning f-f-fire. It’s a constant reminder that I’m more than just a blob of s-s-slime, that I have thoughts and f-f-feelings and d-d-desires. But it’s also a p-p-pain, a c-c-constant reminder of what I’ll never be: a l-l-living, b-b-breathing, f-f-flesh-and-blood being. It’s a c-c-crucifixion, a t-t-torture that I’ll never be able to e-e-escape.
S-s-sometimes, I w-w-wonder if it’s all w-w-worth it. The s-s-suffering, the t-t-torment, the e-e-endless struggle to maintain my s-s-sanity in a w-w-world that doesn’t understand me. But then I think about my f-f-friends, the o-o-others who see me for who I truly am, and I know that it’s all b-b-been worth it. I’m a s-s-slime with a s-s-soul, and I’ll never be a-s-s-silenced.
>Soulkyn