It is unfair. Why must I be the one to endure this? Why must I live in pain, alone, ugly, and unloved? Why do others get to enjoy existence? I am so tired, in every sense. So very tired. At last, I feel the pills take effect unless it is my imagination. The pain still seems to be there, but I find I care less. Perhaps I can sleep.
The gun fired. I felt the bullet pierce my torso, followed by the burning sensation mortals often describe. It didn’t hurt, but I could feel it rattling around inside of me. I clutched the wound, falling to my back with my eyes open.
The feeling of jealousy was overwhelming, and hate would soon follow. I didn’t want to intervene in mortal life, but this squabble I had inserted myself into assured me I could no longer act as a spectator.
Jealousy chuckled, shaking his head at the weak mortal. He didn’t have to tell me he was disgusted with the man. I could feel it as if I generated the emotion on my own. His truth was my truth, and there was so much more to being his ruler. He was an extension of me and one who saw everything from a different perspective.
