The human psyche is a fragile thing, perhaps it’s meant to be pitiful. I wonder when was the last time I shed a tear. I lived for so long now. I absorb so much knowledge, however, I wonder whenever I lost more that what I’d gained. Have I... become numbed to other’s feelings gratitude and remorse? I kept the memories of what emotions feel like, even if that means that I’m barely able to recognize it. Perhaps, the purpose of this journey of mine is to recover what I’ve lost. -- Anon Guest
Some say that if the Gods wish to ruin a man, they must first send them mad. Others hold that ruin lies in the deities' blessings instead. I say no to both of those ideas. If the Gods truly wish to ruin a man... they must first make him immortal.
You may laugh. Immortality is chief amongst human desires. To live forever. That is the goal. That is the ideal. It is what some have been chasing since the dawn of the awareness of mortality. Like most dreams, very few realise how it can turn into a nightmare. I have that realisation. Through base experience.
They say love is forever. Unless the lover is also immortal... it is not. I have found none others as foolish as I. None others with whom to tend the long span of years together. None others who were granted the Gods own ruin. In the beginning, I tried to nurse love as solace through my endless life. Do you know how much it hurts to see a soulmate wither, weaken, and finally perish? Do you understand how much that can hurt, even centuries later?
It only takes four such encounters to choose loneliness over that pain. Better chance encounters to sate the needs of base flesh with no attachments to linger and harm the soul. Better to not have pets. They only last a decade or two and hurt more than lost loves.
I can heal from any injury. I do not age and do not have lasting hurts. Not physically. Emotional pain? Psychological pain? That lasts forever. There was a time, long ago, when war seemed exciting. Like child's play. Bang, bang, you're dead... War has become too brutal, now, to even think it could be anything like play.
I said I could heal from any injury. Imagine what it might be like to reassemble yourself from the scattered parts after being blown to pieces... and then regrow the rest. I can promise you, it is hundreds of times worse than that.
For a time, there is the relative peace of lost memories, but the lessons forgotten come crashing back like meteors when they are learned anew. Worse, still, because the fresh pains synergise with the old.
I have now lived so long that I cannot love any more. In choosing to avoid pain, I am numb to everything else. Nothing can injure me for long, but I do not seek injury. I have journeyed to other worlds, but they hold little interest for me. I have watched a world grow from microbiota through all stages of evolution to intelligence to civilisation and then to ruin... just for something to do.
Meaningless.
All. Meaningless.
I am not human any more. I lost that part of myself long ago. I look human. I sound human... for the most part. I keep track of language just so that I can communicate with others. Just so I can look - fruitlessly - for someone or something like me.
I'm far from being a god. I know not what I am, but when the stars grow cold and all that is left is the hungry darkness... perhaps I will find oblivion in the black hearts that remain.
Perhaps, at last, any remaining god might finally grant me death.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Ig0rZh]
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