I think of all the stories I have seen come and go over the years, from the formless to those that have been given form, and I wonder how humans can be so narrow-minded to think that the scope of their lives can echo into eternity. Don’t get wrong, each one does, but it’s a gentle ping against the measured span of something that even I can’t really comprehend. Every time I come ‘awake’ not ‘woke’ mind you like some of those morons that think they have a handle on this world, I’m six years of age, and I remember everything. When I say that, I don’t just mean the previous life. I remember EVERYTHING.
That’s kind of why I feel that I was brought into the middle of something, or maybe into the second act, as humans would understand it. Of course, there have been days when I think I’m in the third act, since so many humans think that we’re living in the end of days. They have no idea what it means to watch a civilization actually die out. I’ve seen it, and that shit isn’t pretty. Imagine an entire race of people either giving up, killing each other, or finding a way to eradicate each other with the worst possible methods to be found. That’s serious hatred, and todays ‘woke’ individuals have no idea what real horror and oppression is like. I do wish I could tell them, but a lot of these nitwits wouldn’t believe me in the first place.
Back in the day, I could have been considered a god for all the things I know. Now, I’d just be another kook for opening my mouth. The story that’s still being told has reached a seriously messed-up chapter, but all I can do is keep observing and taking notes. The final story is coming at some point, but the first story is still being told.
(to be continued)