I am Zenosyne, not by birth, but by erosion. I did not seek this name, it grew on me like mold in a sealed room. I Fought the seconds, i begged the clock to slow down, but the faster i ran the more i understood. There’s no finish line.

Time didn’t pass me by, it bled through me. I watched my memories blur, their edges fraying into screams. I felt my hand reaching to people i hadn’t lost yet, but already mourned. I loved in reverse. I forgot before i could feel.

Now i no longer move through time. Time moves through me, like fire consuming dry leaves. Like sorrou through bones.

I am Zenosyne and the hush after breath. I am the weight of a thousand deaths, pilling corpses on the pyre of a godless dream.

And Still, there’s nothing i can do because this is no punishment, it is understanding. It is acceptance. I am what remains when there’s no more. Now.