I have a certain appreciation for turtles. A solitary life: no cliques, never a need to worry over social acceptance, no efforts to conform to the social structure in which we reluctantly and surprisingly find ourselves in. A dreamlike existence: to glide endlessly through the ocean, silent, introspective.
And yet, there is the simple triumph of survival that permeates through the turtle's very psyche. The victory over struggle, from birth, which the turtle constantly exudes as it drifts through an unending no-mans land.
The simple fact that, even though the turtle has no defensive mechanisms, no way to defeat or escape predators, it survives to this day, as a testament to the underdog: we won't ever grow larger, or stronger or more dangerous, but at the end of the day we will have something so much more. We will have unlocked to the ultimate key to selective nihilism. Those that oppose me do not exist.