Special

 Hi Guys! Thanks to everyone for being so awesome and reading my blog so far. Today's post is a little different. Less funny, but hopefully still entertaining. I wanted to do some creative writing and since the piece about the macaroni monster was so well accepted I hope you guy might like this one as well. Personally, I like how it turned out. Give me some feedback below!

I stopped living when I was twenty-five years old. I didn't die. I wasn't lucky enough to die. I just ceased to live, and began to simply exist. When I was twenty-five years old I stopped aging.

I don't know why. No one does. I was subjected to more tests than I can recall while doctors searched for the key to immortality. But they never cracked it. No matter how far science advanced, they couldn't figure out where among all of the A's, G's, C's and T's that made up my genetic code was the key to everlasting life. I was one of a kind.

Special.

At first it was exciting. I thought I was a superhero. The mutation in my genes made me invincible. I couldn't age, couldn't die, couldn't be hurt. I saved lives, countless lives.  Men, women, children, cats, dogs, it didn't matter. I saved all of them. I thought this condition of mine was a gift to be used for the betterment of humanity, and so I became a worldwide figure of good.

But the joys of immortality are brief in the everlasting time line of existence. Humans cannot fathom eternity. It is just too large a concept for us to handle. And yet I'll experience it. I'll live forever. It isn't exciting anymore.

I remember realizing what it meant to be immortal. I would out-live everyone I ever met. I'd outlast every person I ever loved. I would experience the loss of my children, my grandchildren, and my grandchildren's fortieth descendants, and never would I age, never would I join them. No matter how many people I saved from burning buildings or bomb threats or terrorist cells, I would still be on this earth long after their bones had crumbled, their memory forgotten.

It became a useless endeavor to try to interact with people anymore. When I looked at people, I saw in their eyes only the barren skeleton they would be in a few short years. They became to me no more than a decomposing corpse, here for a moment, then gone. I could not love, I could not relate. I believe I stopped smiling sometime in the twenty-eighth century. There was no joy in an existence like mine.

I tried so hard to end it over the many years. I would spend decades searching for a way to stop my heart. So many times have I pulled the trigger with the barrel to my head. So many times have I jumped from heights that would leave a mortal nothing more than a broken mass on the ground. So many times have I ingested amounts of medicine that could kill a herd of elephants. I thought maybe, just maybe, one of those times I could get by my immortality. Maybe, if I was just lucky enough, I could join the rest of humanity in demise. But still I persist. 

I needed something in my existence. I needed some sort of stimulation, some reason to live, or at least something to do. I tried to find some stimulation in crime. I felt no guilt, because the people would have died anyway. I was just making their few moments on this Earth slightly shorter. I became widely feared, but what could they do? Kill me? I would not yield to their weaponry or their euthanization. I could wait out any sentence that they serviced me with. Fourteen life sentences pass in but a blink of an eye when one lives forever.

My endeavors in crime kept me occupied for some time, but eventually even that died out. I retreated to the recesses of the earth, far from the prying eyes of mankind. I lived a few millennia in solitude, reflecting on who I was, what I was.

Was I a god? Perhaps I was God. But I did not feel powerful. I felt cursed. I felt punished for something I had never done. It felt more likely that I was in Hell than than that I was a deity.

My peace in solitude was eventually disrupted by a pounding. Powerful, constant, it swept over the landscapes like the rhythmic beating of a human heart. The mortals had begun their final war. Bombs which could level cities in an instant served as the pounding bass for the music of chaos which swept over the world. I thought maybe with power like that,  these bombs could end me as well. I stood under them time after time, ready to embrace death...but to no avail. Eventually the heartbeat stopped, along with every other heartbeat but mine. I persevered still, and now with the humans having wiped each other out, I persevered alone.

Earth had become barren, but it made no difference to me. The men and women I had once protected, and once killed, had been wiped away, leaving me alone to do as I pleased. Not that I pleased to do anything. The landscape was nothing more than deserts, all life destroyed by the bombs. All life but one.

I watched the universe play out. I watched the oceans dry up. I watched the sun, the orb that once warmed the faces of smiling children, even mine once upon a time, explode outward as its store of molecular fuel ran low. I sat in silence as our new red giant of a star engulfed the Earth, burning away everything but the flesh on my body.

I waited as the sun diminished. I explored its grave when it became a black hole. Physicists could only dream of the things I experienced.

I ended up outside the black hole after...I don't even know how long. I watched the universe dim, stars slowly winking out of existence. It all became black.

I'm the only thing left now. The only animate object in a sea of nothingness. I wonder what will happen to me when the very fabric of the universe disappears. When the universe finally ends, what will happen to me? Will I still be here? Will I finally die? I've outlasted humanity. I've outlasted civilizations. I've outlasted stars and planets and galaxies. Can I outlast even the universe? And what will lie beyond it if I do?

I can only wait and see. It is no issue for me. I've become quite good at waiting.