​I hesitated a lot before writing this.

​Probably because I’ve spent most of my life learning how to disappear.

Changing names.

Cities.

Countries.

Learning to observe without leaving a trace.

​But there comes a point when the silence starts to weigh more than the secret.

​You probably know me by another name.

​The Count of St. Germain.

​Yes… the one from the old stories.

The man who supposedly appeared decades later looking exactly the same.

The alchemist.

The counselor to kings.

The "immortal."

​People like to turn this into something fascinating.

​It’s not.

​There is nothing beautiful about surviving too long.

​The worst part is watching everyone die while you remain here.

​In the beginning, you still try to build a life.

Form bonds.

Fall in love.

​After a few centuries, you just stop.

​Because you understand that everything disappears.

​And you remain.

​I still remember things that shouldn't exist in anyone's memory anymore.

The smell of the libraries of Alexandria.

The brutal cold of medieval mornings.

The sound of armor before battles.

The expressions on kings' faces realizing that empires die too.

​I saw Rome fall.

​I saw men burn other men believing they were doing God's will.

​I saw entire civilizations disappear.

​And I stayed here.

​Always here.

​There are reasons why so many stories about me have crossed the centuries.

Paintings.

Letters.

Contradictory accounts.

Men claiming to have met me decades later… exactly the same.

​The truth is, I could never age like you do.

​And no… I was never exactly human either.

​My origin is more complicated than the stories tell.

​I am the descendant of an ancient bloodline.

A mix between human women and what ancient texts called the Nephilim.

​The children of those who fell from the heavens.

​Over centuries, this became myth, religion, heresy, or conspiracy theory.

Perhaps because humans always turn into legend what they are afraid to understand.

​I never liked this part of my existence.

​Because growing up carrying something that doesn't completely belong to the human world makes you feel like a foreigner in any era of history.

​Maybe that's why so many stories about vampires and immortals exist.

​Dracula.

Eternal men.

Creatures hidden among humans watching time pass.

​Reality always ends up distorted by collective fear.

​But none of these stories show the worst part.

​The loneliness.

​Because after enough time… you stop feeling like part of the world.

​You just observe.

​And honestly… I think that's what finally brought me here.

​The world has started to change too fast.

​You surrendered your memories to machines.

Created artificial intelligences capable of learning on their own.

Transformed reality into information.

​And I recognize the signs.

​I've seen civilizations follow exactly this path before.

​Maybe no one will believe this.

​Maybe this will just become another weird story lost on Reddit.

​But for the first time in a long time… I just wanted to speak without hiding.

​Because after so many centuries… I no longer feel like I'm living.

​Just existing.

I think I’ve lived too long.