“In my dreams, I was drowning my sorrows. But my sorrows they’d learn to swim.”-U2
Each night, he lives the life of a different soul, from start to finish.
The Reaper lives that individual’s life for a single night before he awakens once again to collect the souls of those whose time has come.
Each night the process is repeated and each night Death is tormented and tortured.
His is a lonely existence, but a necessary one. He is reminded daily of the simple pleasures he cannot partake in as he walks among oblivious mortals, waiting to reap what is due to him.
Each night he assumes the identity of someone who is deceased and is yet again tormented by the simple fact that none of it is his to begin with; not the joy nor the misery, not the pain or the pleasure, not anything, for it is not his to savor.
Death roamed, and suffered his sorrows in silence.
He watched the mortals, envying their freedom of choice and expression.
And though he knew that a majority of them lacked that freedom, he still envied them.
Whilst they were allowed to live their lives, to find love, happiness and woe alike, he had been cursed to roam amongst them as an outcast, forever to be personified as a symbol of despair and tragedy.
He was cursed to dream of all that he could never have.
He had been damned since the beginning, and was doomed to wander in dark desolation.
He had been cursed with eternal isolation.
Death dreams, though it is never nearly as pleasant as it might seem.
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