Immortality. A never ending sideshow of the grotesque. A ceaseless parade of sickness, and decadence in the deprave that grows with every passing decade. An ever expanding assemblage of cruelty and hatred. Perpetually cascading into utter oblivion.

Everything is consumed by the passage of time. The most alluring, marvelous creations are eventually left in a state of ruin. Old, ugly and withered. brought down from their former beauty into this deprave hell that is humanity.

What are you living for when you will live forever? When you have accomplished each and every goal you've set for yourself, what is there left for you to achieve?

Nothing. There is nothing but horror, destruction and repetition. The same thing over and over, covered in the little nuances of life you once found intriguing but now only bore you to insanity. The miracle of life is now simply routine, and death is your best friend, a creature that you long for, a close friend you wish would come to visit. Unfortunately he seems to visit everyone but you. A cunning magician that you can never seem to keep in your sight. A savior in disguise, waiting to annihilate your petty existence with the wave of his hand. He lives for suffering. He lives for the imminent disaster that is Immortality. Immortality is a prime time game show for his entertainment.

How difficult it becomes to suffer such a fate as this, when after only a few centuries immortality begins to lose it's luster. The marvel of living forever begins to fade and you are left with an ever present reality. A thought that you will never grow old, and you will never die.

You may laugh at me now, you may say how silly I am to despise such a thing. this thing that some call a gift and a miracle. However you have lived only a few short years. You cannot fully grasp the meaning of this thing. This curse. for that is what it truly is. A curse of forever. A vast expanse of loneliness and nothingness. Once you have lived a century, once you have known true loneliness, once you have seen everything you once loved perish around you, only then have you room to laugh. Only then can you say that you have lived it all and do not despise it.
If you don't believe me I urge you to try it yourself, come back to me when you have lived as long as I and we will talk of existence. If you still love your immortality after all of it, then I bow to you, you are a stronger being than I.

As I have said I despise this existence I grow more tired of it with every passing minute, and so I must find new ways to entertain myself.

I hope you'll excuse me for being rude, I have failed to introduce myself.
To tell you a bit about myself might turn into a three day epidemic of story telling, but I will do my best to keep it short.

I am a simple man, with simple needs. I crave attention from anyone who will give it and perhaps that stems from my boyhood. Perhaps I was an actor with a love for his audience, but in truth you could make up anything you like. I no longer care to think of my mortality. It is gone and there is no reason to dwell on it.
I am a martyr for sorrow. I crave it, and this century seems to be rich with it.

Everyone everywhere has some sort of dreadful thing happening to them. It's a shame to see them, these thriving little mortals wallowing in their self pity and hatred. Give them time and they will know true suffering. I'll be sure of that.
I could perhaps tell you a novels worth of stories from my many years of life. I could regail you with an account of the days of Napoleon, or perhaps the wonderful tale of Marie Antoinette. I live through all of it, but those are not the stories that interest me.

The story I will be telling is the only one of real importance. The only thing that matters to me in this horrifying existence.

My rise and fall. My very own plunge into utter sorrow and oblivion. Stay and listen, or don't. I couldn't care either way.