Why are you still here?

Why are you still here?

Is it to much to ask of you to leave me alone? Don't I deserve this all to be over, after everything I've done?

I don't know who you are. I don't know what you did. I don't know what relationship we had. But I know myself, what I am capable of.

I still can imagine what I must have done to you. How I hunted you down. How I slaughtered your kin, everyone you ever held dear, everyone who dared to speak your anathematized name. How I undid everything you ever created. How I caught you and tore you apart limb by limb. How I dismantled your mind with the same precision as your body, determined to break it down farther than anyone had ever done before. How I made sure to slander your name and sully your remembrance. How I personally expelled you from all heavens and hells. How I razed the eternal libraries of the first kings until no grimoire, no sage, no legend remained to even just hint at your existence. How I, not satisfied by making history forget, went to subjugate the gods themselves to harness their power against you. How I violated the temporal order so you never were. How I expunged you from the Akashic Records. How I eliminated ever single memome in which you were merely conceivable. How I invoked powers so fundamental to space and time and causality as those are to life, so abstract they defy description by minds finite and infinite alike. How I made sure that eradicate from everything that ever was, is and will be. How I ensured that your erasure transcended the All and Everything, that you were removed so thoroughly that even I can not know of you.

But you are still there. The only witness of yourself.

When I look past the reality of what is, and past the gaps of what isn't, past the negative contour of what should be and the emptiness of what could be, I see your twisted smile taunting me. I find you haunting me in the pareidolia of the Absolute. Not a person, not a concept, not even the absence thereof. Just a taint in nothingness.

Does this mean you somehow won? A fugitive, clinging to the antithesis of the step from mirage to mystery?

Do I hate you? Admire your resilience? Doubt my sanity?

No and yes, but not perhaps. There isn't a single thing left for me to feel for you. Neither anger nor love, neither fear nor respect. You are outside every philosophy and every religion, beyond all virtues and vices.

So please, go away.

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