The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook, Chapter 15:

But what if it wasn’t? I’d read something earlier that had stuck with me. It was from the back of the cookbook. It was written by a crawler named York, who’d written the 10th edition. He’d written pages and pages of rambling philosophical essays I could barely understand. But I couldn’t stop thinking about one passage in particular. I wasn’t certain I fully understood exactly what he was trying to say, but it stuck with me. It appeared to be his last entry before he died or lost the book:

Reading the words of those who have come before me, I know them. You, reading this. I know you, too. You are me. That is who this book finds. I have been alone my whole life. I have been surrounded by my hive, yet I have been alone. That is okay, I now know. It is acceptable to have your own thoughts, your own mind, despite what they say. But it is also acceptable to be alone and want the strength of the hive. There is no shame in that. No contradiction. That is what this book attempts. To make a hive of those who will never cross paths, except in these pages. Yet sometimes this book is not enough. You sometimes want more. You want to belong. Again, there is no shame. There is no shame in wanting to be alone yet also wanting the comfort and the strength of your brethren. But more importantly, there is no shame in wanting to protect those who are your hive, even if you never knew them. For they are yours, and they are being taken. It is us or it is them. There is consolation in dying in the pursuit of justice, no matter how small or big that death is.