Work Text:
It comes as no shock to me that I am the last one here.
The rest… their actions are what doomed us. I do not pity their fates.
I know I do not have long. Soon enough, this place will come to rot, with nothing left to us but the scraps of the world above.
I, however, do not plan to stay. Because at last, after almost a year of experimentation, I have found a solution.
And yes, I call is a solution, for it is no cure. Even if such a thing exists, it would be far too late.
Thus, my solution, my “cure” is to escape, while I still can.
Truthfully, I do not like it at all.
I know what shall become of me.
In time, I shall forget my name, my face, my place, and perhaps the whole world.
Just as I shall forget this travesty, forget this world where our sorrows were born, the world will forget me, too.
It will forget my self as I leave behind the echoes of my words, words which will be lost on the wind, twisted until they don’t belong to me.
Perhaps they never did.
And so I will fade into a simple still life, my thoughts and dreams becoming roots for trees.
And I will rest, knowing that I will provide in fading what I never could in life, the support to grow.
It will be then that I can rest easy, never again having to muse about my purpose.
After all, there would be nothing to see but trees.