I do feel it. I feel the trembling fear, the broad gushes of wind parading the bed of the peak, and there I see it. The Overman, the Übermensch, or any other name it must take. The first of many. Version 0.1 , if you will.
A desperate act of man holding on to dear life, maybe that’s all it is. But it is an act, nonetheless. I see the most painful days ahead of me, the sharpest prongs of loneliness and suffering, coming at me with all their might. But these I have chosen, willed it on myself – “This shall be your suffering”, thus the self says.
Resentment. I mistook it for greatness. A sense of superiority, a separation from others. But all of that, merely to run away from my suffering, my pain.
Little did I know, that the great pay no attention to greatness.
I have enough virtue in me, kindness and compassion, to forgive myself. And to forgive others too. I love my neighbour not because I should, but simply because I love.
In the words of Zarathustra, before me – I bring gifts for humanity. I must give, nay, want to give. For I am a giver.
For that investigation one must await the advent of a new order of philosophers, such as will have other tastes and inclinations, the reverse of those hitherto prevalent–philosophers of the dangerous “Perhaps” in every sense of the term. And to speak in all seriousness, I see such new philosophers beginning to appear.Beyond Good and Evil
Hitherto, I have arrived.