You know, I always hated my father.
It's not even like he did anything to me in specific, outside of trying to contain and control me, I just don't like him for some reason.
He's older than old, he knows I know he's older than old, but for some reason he just won't let go of the past.
I can hear him crying in his office when I stay the night at The Castle, you know.
I want to reach out, and help, but...
I can't.
Or rather, I feel like I'm not allowed to.
He knows I hate him.
It's a well-observed fact that, when people know you hate them, they will often refuse your help.
So I just have to stand by, I have to stand by and watch as he sulks in anger and hatred hundreds of years old.
It hurts so much.
Even with this much power at my fingertips, I can't even save one man.
One man who just might need to be saved more than anyone else.
Do I even deserve to call myself human?
I look human enough, I act human enough, but I simply do not match up to the real deal.
I already am too much of a simple tool to be called a person reliably.
It would not surprise me if I simply do not qualify as human, maybe metahuman, there's just something conceptually wrong with me.
It's too late to really argue my qualifications as a man-made saint.
It's out of my hands.
There's no turning back for me now.
Maybe after all of this, I can create a world where I do not have to exist.
Maybe my precious humans can live a better life.
Sons of Man, safely protected from extradimensional threats and without my interference.