Is the unexamined life forgivable?

These terrible moments make me ache for a bottle or a pipe. Moments when I feel even the meager attempts at socialization- at the attempt to relate to a fellow sentient being seems like I'm placing such a burden upon them. "you're always- can't you just- I have to sleep now. goodbye" flighty little whispers that call out that they are friends. statues of ash and clay with contempt for anything heavier than a passing fad. for us wielders of hammer and stone, we're familiar with the rolling terrors of the mountain. intimate with the nature of crystalline figures lost in the snowy pastures. the long dead-still standing with fixed eyes and open mouth, still fighting to pull the taste of doom from their tongue. snarled from the inside out. what a wretched existence. I should be so lucky if they didn't have to litter this place with their horrors. why should they climb into my home and die in my fire?

to extinguish me?

they nag me to set the entire place to kindling so I would at least appear to be like them.

it's tempting. it's unforgivable. to do so would offend heaven and I'd be cast out.