The Day the Sun Died _{“This anarchy was child’s play. The first murder was committed against the self.”}

…the sun, the stored air reserves, the stored denial of it. Everything I shouldn’t see, like a tiny reflection in his eyes, a training in God. Ashamed. I know why he’s ashamed. He knows why I want to die.

…but I wanted to die. I begged to die. But after he learned what he knew, he said to me: “I can’t leave you to God, Charles.”
This was something even greater than the fear of hell, to avoid dying… someone seeing you as a trust. Until then, I was always alone. So alone that whoever came, I would be that person. So who was I now? Silent, calm. His smile was as inexperienced as mine. Even when he spoke to himself, I was sensitive to him. The point was, I would eventually face the world; when they faced me, they wished they were powerless. He was the merciless compassion I encountered. His presence was too great for me to bear; he was determined to carry my entire being. And most importantly, he was God to the point that I couldn’t bear God.