Immortality. What a strange idea. I think it is as loathsome as the idea of an eternity. Only a truly cruel God can conceive of this, and only the truly ignorant would wish for it after such a temporal existence. I am such an improbable creature--something immortal, but not in that flimsy way of the angels or even vampires as concocted by your limited imagination. To be immortal is not to cease. It is not like that despicable and childish fantasy of yours in the vampire, living off human blood. So that when the human race perish, they too as a race would follow. It is not like the afterlife experience, because death is still written in the equation. It is simply not to cease in a tiresome, lonely existence which is solely personal. It is a punishment or a gift tailor made only for you and this burden cannot be shared with another nor can you grace another with this special favour. It is like life, and it is like 'death', It is yours to bear alone. I don't recall the first time. The whole idea of a first is confusing to me. There is no first or last, and all semblance of a linear movement in time, space or whatever you can name is no longer relevant. And memory that protective case around our being no longer shields you by letting some things fall through the gap into the darkness of oblivion. I remember all.

IT is lifetime after lifetime of being and that sudden gap yawning when I am on my death bed waiting, waiting for merciful death to take me in its wings and bear me away. When life's little moments run its eventful mundane images before my eyes; when every choices and opportunities missed make its final bow before the curtain forever falls; when what comes after is that great mystery like some unfulfiled journey across the deep that is when a thought like a bubble rises from the bottom of my being and floats ever so slowly up. what if I have done this instead of a that, how different would my life be. All of a sudden I am back at my juncture in the road at the moment of my decision. I take the other path I have not taken before and live all over from that moment on. I reach the end once again like a film that has almost reached its end, but yet again, I think as my life plays itself before me how things would change if I have done this instead and I am brought back to that specific moment in time like an endless dream I refuse to wake from. Maybe this is the heaven and hell people talk of after death. Maybe this is just death itself. Maybe death is an eternal process and immortals are merely this. An endless combination of the same. Afterall no one ever said death was a fast process, it was suppose to be short and sweet and simple like a full stop. Maybe death only truly comes after I have exhausted all possibilities of my existence perhaps then I can cease to exist and go out of existence like a flame--- after all of my life's variations cease to exist and have died all its possible deaths. Even now I lie here awaiting the end and I think how things could have been different.