I don’t want to be around when everyone dies. I don’t want to stand here and watch while everyone burns but me. I don’t want to have the huge weight of eternity hanging over my head like an axe that will never fall.

I don’t want that. Not any more.

People say “forever” but they don’t stop to think about what it actually means. Forever.

I’ve walked this place a million times; watched cities rise out of the desert and fall again, in the blink of a cosmic eye. I’ve lost track of dates, days; time is irrelevant to me. I’m disjointed, disavowed, disowned.

I’ve lost track of everything. Including myself.

I was part of the beginning; now I am destined to be a part of the end.

I used to have a name, but I no longer remember it. I used to know people, voices, language – until even that fell away. I used to dream. I don’t dream any more.

I used to lay awake at night contemplating the meaning of the word eternity.

I feel it, pulling at me. It is the beginning of the end. But for me, there is no end.