4: One Hundred Years is Enough

They asked me if I wanted immortality. I was naive. I said yes.

They understood, better than I had. They knew eternal life was not a blessing, but a curse. But they were kind, kinder than what you read about in the fairy tails with their genies and wizards and trickery. They did not take advantage of my naivety. They gave me what I wanted, and then they gave me a way out.

So long as I lived, I would not grow old. I would not fall ill or be injured. I would not die. I could have lived a thousand lifetimes. I had thought, then, that I wanted to.

They gave me a way out. They stole from me my mortality, but left me the ability to take my own life. It was a long time before I understood the gift they had given me. I couldn’t see myself taking my own life. I couldn’t understand why someone would want to.

I have been alive 100 years today. I laughed. I loved. I lived.

But I’ve also struggled. I’ve had my heart broken. I’ve felt pain and loss and grief. They say how painful it is to outlive those you love. I never understood. Not until I did. 

I was afraid of death when I asked for immortality. But now? Now I have lived 100 years. It was a good life, a full life. I got to grow old with a body that never withered, a mind that never dulled. And I’ve grown. God, how I’ve grown. I know, now, how foolish I had been. I know life is only precious because it ends. 

As much as I’d love to stick around another 100 years, to see how this world of ours turns out, it’s time for me to go.

I stand on the precipice, stealing myself to leap. One last adventure.

I’m not afraid of death anymore. I haven’t been, not for a while.

I have lived 100 years, and I am ready to go to sleep.