As I treaded through the damp jungle floor, I noticed a Mound-building termite colony.

'As a professor of entomology it is my duty to survey native insects in their natural habitat.'

I thought looking at the mound with what can only be described as lust.

***

Throughout my entire life I have been what society calls a 'bug freak.' I admire them. I study them. I even want to be them. And oh I try so hard. This infatuation has caused me to dedicate my life to them and dislike my species, human.

When I look at a bee or ant, I can only stop and stare in awe. The thought of being the controller of these magnificent creatures fills me with delight.Even when I was bullied, beated brutally, and broken beyond repair for what I believed in, I looked back on these beings and found hope.

I stood a resonable distance from the termite mound and gazed at its perfection. Excess dirt crumbled off the top of the mound as termites crawled out like a newborns. The mir-

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CRUNCH

I look downwards and lift up my mud covered boots. A skeleton of a rather big ant was splattered on my shoe. I tsk in disappointment as I shake off the stain that was once a Driver Ant.

I recount the countless books I read on these terrifying but efficent creatures. They travel in millions and are one huge consciousness.

I got to get ou-

A sharp pain races up my leg as a horde of Driver Ants charge at the killer of their fallen brother. Began my sprint but my muddy boots have sunk deep into the Earth. I race to take them off only to find the floor invested with red dots. I freeze in order to fool these nearly blind predators but they havealready located their prey.

Despite the searing pain, I can't stop smiling. Killed by the thing you love.

Kind of romantic, is it not?