I used to be a god, revered, powerful, cruel. Then I fell in love with a human. I tried to save him. I fought hades, killed Hermes twice, I destroyed the order of life for him. He died anyway. There were flowers around his grave when his blood dripped into the ground, almost like a blessing; and where I suppose you want to know, does that leave me?

Well, weeping on the ground where he lay. Gods don’t die, I’m sure you know this. Even when I felt dead nothing changed. I was alive. Painfully alive. For more than a millennia I laid next to the flower bed that used to smell like him and I tormented myself over and over again, I got close a couple times but my heart never stopped. This was my punishment for going against the natural order of things, for turning on my father. Gods don’t die but I wish I did. Then, then I would no longer be alone, but that’s not how it was meant to be. I could’ve prayed for things to be different sure, but I’ve seen fate rule over Zeus and weather you beg like a mortal or fight like a god you will reap what is sewn.

Excerpt from a life I’ll never live (Rose)