The air is still, but for the spores falling gently around you. Nothing else lives here. Even you can barely be considered alive in this state. You recall when you were, vividly if you choose to, but you choose to less and less with each passing night. Sunlight is too harsh for you now, it doesn't do much good to think back on a time when it wasn't. At times even the memories are too bright to bear. Better to focus on where you are now. On thriving. On spreading.
You're not sure where you even started, at this point. You doubt you could find your original body if you tried. And why try? You have no use for it anymore. There's nothing else like it left out there. There's very little that isn't you, at this point. Long ago, that would've bothered you, but you've changed so much since then. You're perfectly content to be alone, and still, accompanied only by the moon.
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