When I look around this room I'm sitting in as I write this down, I remember how much has advanced over the years. I can see the computer screen with the letters appearing on it as I write, and I can see how the light from just this can almost light up this entire room. And then again, I remember how I'm not supposed to being seeing this - I'm not really apart of this present time, despite the fact that I'm in this room and still breathing healthy, as normal. But, what can I do? I didn't ask to see all of this, and I never wanted it either. I know I can safely say that the last sentence summaries everything in the simplest terms that I can use to describe this.

I guess it starts with the stars, the stars you see when you walk outside at night and look up at the sky. I loved looking at them, and I still do. I usually waited until it was so quiet outside that it felt like a footstep would echo so loudly that it wake everyone in a mile radius, and then I would go outside, and I would look at the stars. It was always cold outside at night, so I would put on a long coat, stand outside, and look up at the sky, watching for shooting stars.

I've done this for years. I can only remember three nights of my entire life where I didn't go out - one night when I was too sick to get out of bed, one night when it was raining too heavily, and the first night that I spent awake in the attic of a church. In the area where I lived at that time, less than half a mile from my home, there was a small hospital. It was used at first for just keeping the people that were contagious with an illness for a few days so that it wouldn't spread, but soon it grew to having a small section of the area for chemists that no one else knew of, where they fooled around with different kinds of chemicals that I had never heard of before, and still don't really have a grasp on today.

The reason to why the chemists that worked there did what they did, I still don't exactly know why to this day, but I do have one idea. There was a play produced by a small group of actors in the area I live in, which was about the life of an immortal man who wants nothing else but to die and go back to being the way he was before he was "cursed".

Everyone in the town saw it, and they all talked about it, and began to wonder, "How could life be if I was immortal?" I'm thinking now that I was the only one who had never thought about it. I remember my father asked me once, "How do you think it would be to be immortal, you know, immortal like those stars you watch at night?"

To answer that first question, you don't have a real life when you're immortal; I know this from personal experience.