ꜱɴᴇᴀᴋ ᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴜᴘᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ: ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ.
They sold it like a prize—wrapped in gold ribbon and thunderclouds. A reward. That alone should’ve been the first red flag. Immortality was lonely and endless and cruel in the quiet ways no one warned you about. What was so wonderful about never aging, about staying frozen while the world sprinted ahead without you? What was so holy about watching the people you loved wither, gray, and die—one funeral at a time—while you remained unchanged, untouched, unmistakably alone
What was so good about being divine?
Nothing. Not a damn thing.