I mourn for myself. The life of an immortal is all but fleeting. I wish that I could become a mortal. For this eternity feels dreary. I cannot remember the last time I’ve ever felt a glimmer of hope or glee. These days I only feel an aching. Stabbing and twisting, like a knife in my heart, I feel this deep longing for something -anything more than what is. I wish I could become mortal. Many have tried but they all perished. The secret to living a fulfilling life is to have an end. At least that’s how the almighty made it seem. And now I can’t help but wonder if they had a point. I think I’m going to go for it and try to become human. But I don’t know how without dying a true death. You see those before me have tried but they either ended up as demons or dust to the wind. I don’t want to be either. So I will try to figure why these things happened to them and prevent that from happening to me. My life or rather unlife will begin shortly.