There is no easy way to say this without blowing it out of proportion or making someone feel guilty, is there?

I know this is strange. And you who are reading this may want to set this aside out of boredom or disinterest, but please hear me out. 

Because there is no easy way to say this.

So I will say it how it is...

I died for you.

Yes, you, specifically but also others. 

And no, there was no grand scheme in this. I was not chosen by the gods, nor was I some deity's child or a child of prophecy. Don't believe the rumors, my story... my original story is far less interesting than that.

I was born in a place that no longer exists.

Ah, but I'm getting off topic, where was I?

Yes, yes.

I died for you.

Of my own choice, so there's no need for you to feel guilty or irritated that I may be pinning my distress on you. 

It is just that I am tired. Very tired, woefully tired. 

The life that you are living now, is it good?

Are you content?

If not, I would say that I am sorry but apologies mean very little to me in the last few centuries and I'm not one for ingenuity. I hope you will have the strength to overcome your plight.

And if so, I hope you cherish all that you have.

I could tell you that there is an evil that threatens your world.

I could tell you that I am all that stands between you and certain destruction.

But that would be only a half-truth.

I had friends once.

Allies who stood by me in battle, through thick and thin.

Who fell because I asked them to stand beside me no matter the cost.

And I know what you must think. It was their choice, it was their decision, but I am the one who asked and therefore I carry the weight.

Just as I carry the weight of returning time and time again to fight in the name of protecting the world you live in. All worlds. 

I've lived in your universe, once... twice.

I've walked where you have walked.

I've run where you have run.

And perhaps you and I have met once.

I hope that I was good to you.

I hope that I helped you.

And if I did not, I am sorry.

I have done this so many times. 

I've watched civilizations rise and fall, felled both friend and foe, fought countless wars, loved and lost. I have buried my children, my parents, my lovers, I have fought in their name and to free them from their fates only to arrive too late or on time and yet —  And yet when I die, I cannot see oblivion.

Just another life.

Another trial.

And perhaps you say, "Why don't you stop?"

Well, who else will fight if not me?

Will you?

Will you take my place in this fight and return to fight for those you love and those you hate?

Even though they may rewrite history, paint you in a different light, to whatever their interests require?

Will you?

If no, then I understand. This is too heavy of a mantle to place on any person's shoulder.

And if so, I must ask you to withhold your judgment. 

This is only a message, my friend.

Whether a message from the beginning or the end, we will see.

Hear my story.

Follow in my footsteps.

And should the truth become clear to you at the end?

Then tell me, was it worth it?

And will you fight by my side, remember me as you know me, rewrite my history, or fight in my stead?

Until we meet again, 

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