I…

  ….

  It’s empty.

  ………

  ……….

  I….

  ……………….

  …………………….

  ………………………..

  .

  Nothing changes.

  And I can see that.

  I am….

  I’m still a mortal.

  An animal. A homosapien distinctly named a human.

  A creature that thinks with greed.

  A lifeform with such weakness it’s own intelligence hindered it.

  That’s me.

  God.

  God.

  God.

  God.

  I stare at my own hands.

  Imagining a look of disdain. Such hatred to cut them off. To let them fall without any remorse.

  I don’t feel that.

  It just feels…. Hollow.

  A mass of nothing I feel. I sense.

  The scenery outside dispels any thought I think of. Rooting me in place.

  My eyes burn and itch.

  I want to be angry.

  I want to break it.

  I want to destroy it.

  I w a n t t o f e e l i t .

  A quiet sigh exits me.

  There's nothing wrong.

  There's nothing that’s inherently an issue.

  It’s peaceful.

  That’s what a human craves and despises.

  So I wrote.

  I wrote back then.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  I wrote years before.

  I wrote once again.

  I continue writing. As much as I want. To fulfill my own gluttony. My own greed.

  I want to make this special.

  But all I got was…. This.

  [  Star.]

  Star.

  Star.

  Star.

  Star.

  Upon this starry sky, there is too much.

  But so little.

  Responsibility.

  I will it.

  It’s my will.

  I am…

  It flares.

  God?

  I am not a god.

  I am not a god. I am not a god. I am not a god. I am not a god.

  I am not a god. I am not a god. I am not a god. I am not a god.

  I am not a god! I am not a god! I am not a god! I am not a god!

  “I AM NOT A GOD!!!!!!!”

  “I A M N O T A G O D ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !”

  ………..

  ………..

  ………..

  …………

  ……………….

  …………………

  ………………………….

  ……………………………..

  ……………………………..

  I felt it.

  The urge to rip my own self.

  Insufferable.

  Here I am. Understanding how many days go by. Once you taste it, the chalice takes ahold.

  Centuries go by.

  Friends from the start meet graves. Like children of the father meeting their end before the parent.

  This place.

  My office.

  My living space.

  Above are spaces I have yet to decorate. Delaying due to my own ineptitude.

  The stairs lead to my office.

  A straight. Empty hallway.

  A place where only I live.

  …I don’t know what to call them.

  Subordinates?

  Followers?

  Friends?

  Roommates?

  Where does the happiness lie. Inside or with the mouth.

  But to them too I am….

  …Something above.

  I was lonely. I knew that. I knew it when I was younger. I know it now. That doesn’t affect me.

  But my actions.

  My role.

  My perspective.

  My life.

  I want to give it a few more years. A few more. But I am…

  Not needed.

  The descendants must stand up. They cannot keep holding the hand that helps.

  But it’s my responsibility.

  My… duty.

  But at this rate. I will erode. I will start changing. I won’t be the same. Believe it this.

  I will grow.

  My decision to relearn. To never forget it. I will feel it. The grandeur, the happiness, the anger, the regret, the message, the path.

  And this is not important to you. The different gaze from the different time.

  My words will not change.

  Go back.

  To the story you came from.