Gabe’s Introduction

Hello, Journal. 

We’re going to be getting well acquainted, so allow me to introduce myself: 

My name is Gabe River Arenreeth. 

I am an immortal brat that’s lived far too long in a world that knows far too much about me. 

I have but one friend, Edge Vasis, and he doubles as a therapist of sorts. He’s the reason we’re becoming friends. 

He recommended I keep you as a permanent companion to accompany me on this unbearably endless life from now on. Partly for the sake of preserving what little sanity I have left to me. Partly for the sake of my horrible memory. The latter of which I was entirely unaware of until quite recently when both my best friend, and my ‘frenemy’ were so incredibly irritated by my lack of recollection that they had to sit me down to track my past.

The entire experience was bizarre from start to finish. It was like they’d come together for an intervention. Except those don’t exist at this time in history, so ignore that comparison. Either way, I never thought I’d see the day when Edge and Abdaziel would A) get along, B) actually talk to each other or C) work together for a common goal… Oh yeah, also D) have common goals!

It just went downhill from the moment I sat down, too. I can’t even really laugh about it because it got dark fast and I wouldn’t know how to track where the humor ends and the pain begins. The three of us very quickly learned there was a reason I was forgetting things. My dear therapist concluded in the dim silent aftermath that my mind had adapted to folding in on itself to hide the pieces that it couldn’t handle. Basically my brain was eating itself to forget things.

So, once all the rage and crying and confusion was over and done with, we had an entire book JUST on my past. And it covered everything. From cult torture, to depressed immortal trying to test the power of his newfound life against how badly he wanted to die, to the birth and growth of the trickster. Then, once we said good-bye to the half angel, the arch demon decided I needed to find a productive way to avoid this event ever happening again.

To which, I wholeheartedly despised.

Fought hard against it too, which is a feat in itself because I don’t argue with Edge.

And yet, here we are.

Pen in hand, dramatically sighing to irritate the therapist across from me, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to even write?

The entire reason he’s so concerned about this is because of my memory and my incredibly unstable mind I’ve got on me. 

I guess I could start with the immortality… Where else am I going to start?

Well. Let’s see.

My age is still barely an increment of Edge’s – I’m practically still a baby. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a very successful immortal. And yes, there are beliefs about lil’ ol’ me. A lot actually, but maybe I’ll cover those next.

Anyways, I didn’t need the oddest duo to ever exist to tell me that I was broken by my age. I’m me. Of course I realized by now that something was amiss. The fact of the matter is that I learned early on to embrace these things, or they’d drive me madder than I already am. And mad I am… What else am I supposed to do when I have all of eternity staring me in the face?

Edge just cleared his throat. Was I muttering aloud? Are you in my head, old man?

Are my ramblings any better on paper than out loud? No? Hah.

Where was I exactly?

I tried to tell you about my immortality, that’s it. I ended up complaining about my intervention and my reminder of brokenness.

Although, technically speaking, these are exactly the fault of this power to not die easily.

I started my days in this life excited at my freedom from the torment that I’d suffered for a decade. I was excited that I was finally free to take my life into my own hands.

What a joke that was.

If the journal of my past is true, then it took me an entire century to come to grips with the fact that I am stuck alive.

So, what the hell was I supposed to do with the harbored trauma of torture, topped off with countless failed suicides over the space of the first hundred years? It’s no wonder I lost it.

Some say my mind snapping was what released the power to turn me into this being… I’d like to think because of that assumption, then the following increase of instability is the fault of it as well. That makes sense, right?

Ah, wait a moment, dear Journal. I have only really introduced myself, yet you know nothing about me. I apologize. Perhaps my next entry will have to be a brief explanation…

I think this has been enough for the first try at writing my thoughts. I’m not a fan of this and I doubt it will stick. It is just as jumbled as when I speak my thoughts; how is this supposed to help?

I wouldn’t even have taken the invitation seriously if it had been suggested by anyone else. Edge is one of the few who’s opinion and suggestions I don’t take lightly.

Anyways, until next time…

Gabe Arenreeth…

Shitty Immortal Extraordinaire!