I am getting old. I am getting weak. And there will be no one to follow me. Perhaps, it's for the best.
My eyes are getting sunken. And I can't lift my arms at the rate required to do even the most simple, mundane task.There was a time when people like me were revered. Celebrated. Treated like kings. And then for a time, like gods.
I won't miss it once it's all gone, I don't miss what has already left. The pressure to be godlike is left for the true gods. Maybe, that's proof that there are no true gods. I never see any of them around.
I am alone now, left with the task to leave nothing of us behind. To allow us to be forgotten. To allow the world to move on as if we never were. I was a moment, and the moment has passed.
What we gave the world, the world could take from anyone. What we were to people was and always will be; trivial. We are sorry for wasting your time. We are glad you learned your lesson.
Now leave me in peace. I will bother you no more with my manipulations.
I am old. I am weak. No one has followed me. It is for the best.