please dear fucking god send me back to 100BC and make me a starving slave that mine the gold in a toxic goldmine so that my hand can touch the gold that is melted down to made the ornaments that she wore. im so fucking livid. the absolute fucking despair i'm having. the madness.
years have i tour this world. floods, earthquakes, wars plagues, unrest and wildfires. i have killed men and women, countless. i have saved childrens and elderly, expecting nothing. i have set out to the worse of dunes and the vilest of forests. i have sailed the sea, toured the sky and ventured deep into our lands. and everyday, every moment, every fiber of my being. it itches of something more. something simple. something that could be fulfilled. not the joy of lust. not the power of money. not the thrill of violence no more. it is to be with her. i want to be with Novaria. even if im the dust that she steps on. my existence everyday itches just to escape this shell. my anger does not subside even when i fight with my life. chop me alive. drill my brain. burn me to ashes. if somehow my beings is in the same space with her, i'll do it. if you need me to fight against an army for it, consider it done. i'll fight the worse of devils. i'll fight gods if i have to. i'll do anything. even for just a split second where i'm in the same space for her. even as a little atom
