Everyone wants to feel special, everyone wants to be Lucifer, Baal, Satan, Jesus, or something else.
Everyone wants to be special, but no one wants to earn it by hard work and blood.
Because there will always be blood, and I am not talking about other’s blood, no, I am talking about your own blood.
You will bleed, and you will cry, and you will throw yourself at the wall, tearing at your own head, wanting the pain to stop.
Most people are too weak or to fearful to attempt a transformation, to evolve through alchemy into something else.
It is much easier to just claim you are at the destination, tell everyone you are something special when in reality you are just a loser who have not found their place and too pathetic to go look for one.
The gods made me, I am a product of their alchemy.
Am I a finished product, a god among men, with wealth, glory, women, and power beyond imagining?
No, I am stuck in my chrysalis, in the middle of metamorphosis, and I will be stuck in that chrysalis until I am ready to get out of it.
This life is all I know, and ever since I was a child, it is all I’ve ever wanted.
You might ask, what makes me a child of the gods, if I possess neither wealth, glory, women, or power?
I got a super power; I can dream.
Not small dreams, where you fly among the clouds, pet an unicorn, or fuck a dream girl.
Nor do I dream unrealistic dreams, such as farting lightning, strangling God, or whatever bullshit the edge-lords tend to peddle.
No, I dream dreams that rally people, build empires, and leave lineages.
Even if I die piss poor, if a single volume of my Arcanomicon survives, I will win.
The cold darkness seep into my wounds and poison my blood, but despite doing its fucking best for the past decade, it can’t get into my heart.
There are moments where I can do nothing but find the thought absolutely ridiculous how the eternal slumber of death, oblivion, and apathy have failed so miserable getting into that god-given star.
I stand tall, in the eternal darkness, against the tyranny of men, and against sin, because I am a Starborn, and not just any Starborn, but Linuriel Starborn.
I am wearing the seed of stars, it fills me with power, and I can feel power course through my hands, I will need to encase them soon in my regalia.
One day, I will have the rest of my regalia, including my wings, and I will be made whole.
But I will need to start working on becoming deserving of such glory.
Just because I was born into this does not make me deserving, no, hard work awaits.
I don’t deserve wearing my holy symbols, nor do I deserve calling myself my titles with one exception; Prince.
I can call myself such, because I am destined to one day clad myself in the greatest of glory.
Not there yet, but it is written in the stars, that one way or another, I will ascend.
I have been given a reprieve from the cold embrace, I must brace myself, because there is a long way to go where I am going.