My immortally is eminent. How could it not be? My soul has left a mark on universe that cannot be erased and others, besides you, know this to be truth. You say that I cannot announce my immortality that “Immortality comes to you, you do not go to Immortality.” I find this to be preposterous, I demand immortality and it will be so. Now you say that I am full of myself and probably liquor or some other substance. This maybe the case, however, I inquire you to look at who I am and what I have become, and then you tell me that I am wrong. I am the spark that enflames your heart—my heat quivers within you keeping you within my realm. I am the calm in the night that you encase yourself in to rest your weary existence—my solace is without comparison, you breath in my soul. I am what you have always endeared and embraced—my flesh is but flesh but you still wish to partake of its bounty. I am what you aspired to be but you fell short—your jealousy of how the world perceived me held you back. Can you still say that I am not destined to be immortal? And your answer is “yes.” Of course, you still do not believe.