Mere existence is an exercise in defiance.
Mere existence is an exercise in defiance.
I want to try writing horror. I had been reading some H.P. Lovecraft a while ago, and it was amazing. His work is disturbing to no end. It’s kind of the stuff I’d like to write. I had also gotten into some of those Slenderman stories which had a similar feel. A feel that freaked the hell out of me. I’ve been debating about trying some stuff out on this Teen Wolf AU fanfic I’m writing, which although has a super hero theme, it’s one that actually would work rather well with the horror theme layered on top of it.
My perception of time has not been very favorable lately. Days just tick away. Ever increasingly drawing me nearer to I don’t even know what.
So like a couple days ago I had this dream that this coworker I have a small crush on was being all sweet and cuddly on me. I was slightly freaked out but then just went with it. It was nice, but the moment didn’t last long after that unfortunately.
The next day though this same guy calls out from work. Which he had apparently done for his last three shifts. And oddly enough I haven’t even seen him since last week. Crazy that I am, I have this unshakeable feeling that they are connected.
What is wrong with me? It’s bad enough ever that time I see this guy I almost call him by the wrong name even though I know his name quite well. The funny thing about that though, is the name my brain keeps wanting to associate him with is not even remotely close to his actual name.
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
yesss i found it again! one of my all time favourite reads.
CAN I LOVE THIS OR IS THAT BAD IDGAF I LOVE IT ANYWAY I DO WHAT I LIKE AND I LIKE WHAT THIS IS
How do you even focus when you’ve got ideas for completely different things rampaging through your brain?
Time was once our greatest enemy, but now it is our only friend.
Sometimes I think I can sense them upon the wind. I often want to shout up for them to swoop down and take me away, but I can’t, and they couldn’t. I’m stuck here, unable to go back. Not now at least, at times I fear, maybe never.
If my eyelids are heavy and exhaustion is weighing me down, it’s because I’m becoming sleep deprived from waking up in the middle of the night with fucking FEELS that prevent me from returning to the realm of dreaming. Said Feels which should not be gripping me in such a fashion due to them being based in fucking fiction.
Clearly my mental and emotional state is not anywhere near that of a healthy human being. Not that it has ever really been. At least not for the past decade and a half anyway. And also not that ANY human on this planet is exactly a shining example to be compared against, but I digress.
I suppose I should be grateful that these feels, no matter how unhealthy they may be, have allowed me some degree of emotional release. Something I’ve been in desperate need of for so long. The best I can hope for is to try channeling the mess that I am into a more positive, reality based (ha!), focus.
I am afraid I may end up breaking myself in the end. Better to be broken and free than the crushing claustrophobic alternative.
Is it odd that I think Time, much like Space, is itself multidimensional?
Is it also odd, that while I know Time is relative, I also think it may also be irrelevant? Or have I just been listening too much to that voice that has been insisting to me that it’s irrelevant?