200 F.Y.
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Death was always a concept that I have been strangely intimate with. What with the damn thing always being portrayed in the news and such, it was impossible to escape the concept of it.
Hell, I died myself, so I was pretty sure that I was qualified enough to say such things.
But now that I thought about it, death was always a specter of life that I somehow managed to find myself embroiled in for some reason. Whether it was the death of my grandparents to becoming a worker in a steel fabrication plant and seeing the horrific accidents that happened during my time, it was just a fact of life. And even now as I sit in solemn silence in front of the graves of my fallen comrades, I found it quite surprising that I honestly didn't feel anything beyond exhaustion and existential dread.
"Brother?"
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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