As I sit back puffing on a cig, I reflect on my life. The neural pathways rejuvinate as old emotions are reawoken by the visions of my memories. Faces flash before my minds eyes whilst audio and empathic impressions are respoken. I hear the voices of those I once knew amd recount the things they have said to me, good and bad. But my own memory and soul betrays me to the sunken place as my worn mind fails to bear the weight of it.
One might say, “Oh just take this pill.” or “Oh just do this procedure.” but I am like a hermit crab and a collector of shells. The former forms of my soul shed away like snake skin but they do not turn to dust. Nor can I consume them. I am a small child attempting to swallow a house. This absurd vision has confounded me to strange nausea since I was young. What does the vision mean of one who attempts to swallow absurdly large things?
So here I sit on my porch, to the sound of roosters and morning birds reflecting on my whole life like I’m receiving a data update. And the memories keep coming. Even as I void my own life and the time of my life to run from new memories.