After the incident in my apartment, I stopped pretending I was normal.
There was no point anymore.
Reality itself had already made its opinion clear.
YOU SHOULD NOT EXIST.
The strange part was that those words no longer frightened me as much as they should have.
If anything, they only confirmed what I had already started suspecting years ago.
I was something the world could not properly contain, and once I accepted that truth, life somehow became even more meaningless than before.
By my early twenties, I had already experienced everything most humans spend their entire existence chasing.
Wealth, influence, luxury, pleasure, admiration… reality handed me every desire almost the moment it appeared inside my mind.
I owned penthouses in cities I barely remembered visiting.
Companies made me richer faster than I could spend the money.
Politicians invited me to private dinners despite knowing almost nothing about me.
Celebrities wanted to meet me simply because other celebrities already did.
The world behaved like it had collectively decided I mattered.
At first, I enjoyed it.
How could I not?
I was still human back then.
At least partially.
I liked expensive watches, absurdly fast cars, private beaches, luxury hotels overlooking entire cities.
I liked attention.
I liked hearing people speak my name with admiration in their voices.
And women were probably the worst part.
Not because of them.
Because of me.
No relationship ever felt real.
Every conversation flowed perfectly.
Every moment unfolded exactly how I wanted without effort.
Arguments resolved themselves unnaturally fast.
People forgave me too easily, trusted me too easily, loved me too easily.
Nothing resisted me.
And eventually, that destroyed my ability to feel attached to anything.
Do you know what gives love value?
Uncertainty.
The possibility of rejection.
The fear of losing someone.
Without those things, emotions become hollow performances.
I learned that lesson while lying awake beside someone whose name I can barely remember now.
She was beautiful, intelligent, calm… the type of woman most men would have destroyed their lives to keep beside them.
And while she slept against my chest, I remember staring at the ceiling with one horrifying realization repeating endlessly inside my head.
This feels fake.
Not the relationship.
Reality itself.
The world constantly adjusted itself around my desires so perfectly that even emotions stopped feeling authentic.
Every interaction became predictable before it happened.
Every conversation followed invisible patterns already decided in advance.
Life no longer surprised me.
It obeyed me.
And obedience is boring.
That was the true curse of omnipotence.
Not loneliness.
Predictability.
By twenty-three, boredom had become physically painful.
I traveled constantly trying to escape it.
Tokyo.
Paris.
New York.
Dubai.
Rome.
Entire months blurred together inside private jets, rooftop parties, luxury suites, and empty conversations I forgot almost immediately afterward.
Every city eventually looked the same.
Every human desire repeated itself endlessly.
Money.
Pleasure.
Power.
Recognition.
Fear.
Love.
Hatred.
Humans spent their entire lives chasing the same patterns with slightly different faces.
And the worst part was that I had already obtained all of it.
One evening during a private gathering somewhere in Monaco, a billionaire asked me a question while staring at the ocean beyond the balcony.
“What’s your goal now?”
I remember almost laughing.
Goal?
How was I supposed to answer that?
What goal can exist for someone who cannot fail?
I gave him some vague answer about investments and future projects because that’s what people expected to hear.
He nodded like I had said something profound while casually holding a glass of wine worth more than most people earned in a month.
But internally, I felt absolutely nothing.
That became increasingly common.
Nothing excited me anymore.
Not success.
Not pleasure.
Not danger.
Not even reality itself.
The world had become too small for me.
And somewhere deep inside, I think I had already started understanding something terrifying.
An omnipotent being cannot dream.
Because dreams only exist for people separated from their desires by uncertainty.
For normal humans, desire creates movement.
For me, desire died the moment it appeared.
The worst part wasn’t that reality obeyed me.
It was how naturally it did it.
The universe never resisted.
Never struggled.
Never hesitated.
It simply adjusted itself around my existence as if that behavior was completely normal.
And slowly, I began realizing something disturbing.
Reality wasn’t protecting me because I was lucky.
It was protecting me because it was afraid.
That thought stayed in the back of my mind constantly after the incident with the televisions.
Every strange event afterward only reinforced it further.
The world no longer felt stable around me.
Sometimes conversations repeated themselves unnaturally.
Sometimes people forgot things they had said only seconds earlier.
Once, during a meeting with investors in London, time itself seemed to freeze for nearly three seconds.
Nobody noticed except me.
One moment, a man was speaking confidently about market projections while holding a pen in his right hand.
The next moment, everything stopped.
Completely.
The room froze in absolute silence.
The man remained motionless mid-sentence while the pen floated slightly above the table after slipping from his fingers.
Outside the windows, rain itself had stopped moving.
And in the middle of that frozen reality…
I heard breathing.
Not mine.
Something else.
Something standing somewhere beyond existence itself.
The sound lasted only an instant before the world resumed normally again.
The pen hit the table.
The investor continued speaking without noticing anything strange.
Everyone else remained completely unaware that reality itself had just stopped functioning.
But I noticed.
And more importantly…
Something else had noticed me too.
After that, sleep became difficult.
Not because I was scared.
Because the dreams kept becoming more real.
At some point, they stopped feeling like dreams entirely.
They felt closer to memories.
Impossible memories belonging to someone who had existed long before humanity itself.
I started seeing structures that should not have been comprehensible to the human mind.
Endless realities layered infinitely on top of each other.
Universes collapsing and reforming like breathing organisms.
Gigantic black oceans containing stars beneath their surface instead of water.
And always…
The feeling that something was waiting for me beyond all of it.
One night, unable to sleep, I walked through the streets of Paris around four in the morning.
The city was almost empty.
Rain covered the roads in reflections of white and gold while distant traffic echoed faintly through the darkness.
Normally, I enjoyed nights like that.
Humanity looked quieter when it slept.
Smaller.
But that night felt different.
Wrong.
As I crossed a bridge over the Seine, I suddenly stopped walking.
The world around me had become silent again.
Not naturally silent.
Artificially silent.
No wind.
No traffic.
No sound.
Even the rain had frozen motionless in the air.
Slowly, I looked upward.
And for a brief moment…
The sky cracked.
That’s the only word capable of describing it.
Reality itself split open above Paris like fractured glass, revealing something hidden behind existence.
Not another dimension.
Not space.
Something deeper.
I suddenly saw countless overlapping worlds existing beyond normal reality.
Endless narratives stacked infinitely on top of each other.
Stories.
Universes.
Entire existences functioning simultaneously like pages inside an incomprehensibly large book.
And instinctively…
I understood what they were.
Fiction.
At least, fiction from the perspective of humans.
But from where I stood, the distinction between reality and fiction no longer seemed meaningful.
They were all simply worlds.
Some lasted forever.
Others disappeared instantly.
Some contained gods capable of destroying galaxies.
Others revolved around ordinary human lives so insignificant they vanished almost immediately into the endless sea surrounding them.
And somehow…
I existed outside all of it.
The realization should have broken my mind.
Instead, it felt obvious.
Natural.
Like I had always known.
Then I started recognizing things inside those worlds.
Men with monkey tails carrying the names of vegetables while shattering worlds beneath broken skies.
A bald man capable of ending every battle with a single punch.
Witches playing with reality itself through endless murder games on isolated islands.
Ninjas carrying demons sealed inside their own bodies.
Pirates ruling the seas despite being unable to swim.
Half-naked superheroes saving humanity while smiling for cameras.
Creatures capable of devouring entire multiverses as if consuming grains of sand.
Knights wearing the names of constellations while clashing beneath divine heavens.
Stories.
Infinite stories.
And all of them felt unbearably small.
Predictable.
Limited.
For the first time in years, I genuinely tried to feel excitement.
But even standing beyond countless realities, watching universes unfold beneath me like pieces on a chessboard…
I still felt bored.
That was the moment I truly understood how broken I had become.
Not even infinity was enough anymore.
After that night in Paris, I stopped seeing humanity the same way.
Not because I hated humans.
Quite the opposite.
I envied them.
I envied how temporary their lives were.
I envied the fact that they could still feel fear before taking risks, excitement before chasing dreams, desperation when facing failure.
Humans suffered endlessly, yet somehow that suffering gave weight to their existence.
Meanwhile, my own life had become unbearably hollow.
Nothing challenged me anymore.
Nothing surprised me.
Nothing mattered.
Days blurred together into a meaningless sequence of victories I never truly earned.
Entire months disappeared between private meetings, meaningless relationships, and luxury so excessive it eventually became invisible to me.
At some point, I stopped remembering where I woke up most mornings.
Paris, Tokyo, New York, Dubai… every city felt identical when reality itself constantly rearranged itself in your favor.
The worst part was that I could no longer connect emotionally with anyone.
Not truly.
Every interaction felt artificial because the outcome had already been decided before it even happened.
People loved me too easily.
Admired me too easily.
Trusted me too easily.
Even hatred became impossible.
How could someone genuinely hate a person the universe itself constantly protected?
Reality corrected conflicts before they could escalate.
Conversations shifted unnaturally in my favor.
Situations resolved themselves before consequences could touch me.
Life had stopped feeling lived.
It felt managed.
One evening, while attending another useless gathering filled with wealthy parasites pretending to be important, I quietly left the party and walked alone toward the rooftop balcony overlooking the city.
Music echoed faintly behind me while thousands of lights illuminated the streets below.
Cars moved endlessly through the city like blood circulating through a living organism.
Somewhere down there, millions of people were still fighting for their dreams, fearing failure, struggling to survive.
And suddenly…
I realized I would trade everything I possessed just to feel that again.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Desire.
A reason to move forward.
That realization terrified me more than anything else.
Because for the first time in my life, I genuinely understood something horrifying.
An omnipotent being cannot evolve.
Perfection is stagnant.
Without limitations, existence itself stops moving.
Humans dream because reality denies them things.
I had lost the ability to dream a long time ago.
As I stood there staring at the city, the world around me suddenly became silent again.
The music vanished.
The wind disappeared.
Even the lights below froze unnaturally.
I closed my eyes slowly.
“Are you watching me again?” I asked calmly.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then reality distorted.
The sky above the city cracked open silently, revealing the same endless darkness I had started seeing more frequently over the past months.
Countless worlds existed within it like reflections floating inside an infinite ocean.
And for the first time…
I stepped toward them willingly.
The moment I moved, information flooded my mind violently.
Infinite narratives.
Infinite universes.
Endless systems governing realities smaller than atoms compared to the thing observing them from above.
I saw worlds ruled by magic.
Worlds ruled by gods.
Worlds ruled by concepts.
Worlds where entire universes existed solely to entertain higher beings.
And somehow…
I stood above all of them.
Not as a king.
Not as a god.
As something worse.
Something outside the structure itself.
That was the moment I finally understood why reality feared me.
I was never supposed to exist inside it.
Then, deep within the endless sea of worlds surrounding me…
I noticed something strange.
One world.
Different from the others.
At first, the difference seemed almost insignificant, but the longer I observed it, the more disturbing it became.
The laws inside that reality were unstable.
Causality itself seemed incomplete.
Certain parts of the world felt invisible even to me.
For the first time in longer than I could remember…
I felt curiosity.
Real curiosity.
And buried beneath it…
Something else.
Something I had not felt since childhood.
Excitement.
Slowly, I smiled while staring at that distant world hidden among infinity.
Maybe…
I had finally found something capable of resisting me.