Some people are so happy that life passes them by in a rush. Hours feel like seconds, days spent with loved ones feel like mere minutes.
But not me.
I feel each second drag by, excruciatingly slow; every day that goes by feels like a century. I've only been here for three years; I can't imagine what it'll be like after a thousand. Hopefully I'll be crazy by then and won't be able to tell the difference between minutes and eons; maybe I might even end up like the Mrin Prophet. That would be interesting.
You know, I'm similar to the Mrin Prophet in some ways. We have both been the instrument of necessity; both felt the power and the knowledge that you are invincible.
Sometimes. Invincibility didn't save me in the end, though.
The other thing I have in common with the Mrin Prophet is that we both have no father. But he lost his unwillingly as a baby, while I willingly sacrificed a life of joy to try and do something that was not my task. It was not my task to complete; and so I ended up in a life of terror and hate, then bound in a tomb of stone, sentenced to be held there forever by my own brother. Sometimes I don't even blame him for doing what he did. I was a traitor.
Zedar the Apostate. I hate that title, I hate myself, I hate the sanity that continues to torture me. I long for the days when sweet insanity will come. And it will come, if not tomorrow, or not next year, but one day; one day it will come.