In Sentience Brump discovers, in the beginnings of existence no less, self-hate. Hating oneself is a difficult enough realization to try to come to terms with after years of living, to have grown to despise one’s own actions and abhor the decision-maker, yet be seemingly powerless to change things going forward (in the case of regretting and hating one’s own past, there is no cure and one can only cope with the symptoms). It is another thing altogether to have barely started photosynthesizing and to already be filled with self-loathing. An important lesson does become elucidated though, for without consciousness there would be no hate – either for others or oneself. There would be no love either, but when has love been enough to outweigh misery, despair, pain, and everything else that makes life unbearable, let alone self-hatred? – Zachary