They called me the Sky, their title for the prophesied chosen one. I was not. I was a fraud, but how could I bring that up that I wasn’t the sky!! They were fully convinced I resembled the blue void above us on Earth! Every day they wrote poems and burnt offerings for me while I lay in shameful silence. They wrote stories and epics and glorious tales, all about a fraud. So I did what any prophesied omen would do: I struck a match. I ate some rocks and cried. Then I ate the lit match. If I was not yet the sky, then perhaps I could become it, before anyone became suspicious of me.
First stop: the library, where I was sure I could find info on apotheosis. Second stop: NASA. I’m not sure 100%, but they probably have some useful info. If that fails, I’ll ask Ariana Grande. She seems to know about NASA. Third stop: the Internet. There’s not a whole lot you can’t find on there. And it’s sometimes called the Cloud.
If you ever find this entry, I’m busy off becoming the sky.