Addendum: Not following the usual script, prologue.

I wish the processing could have been longer, indefinitely. But such a thing was not mine to decide.

Slowly I feel my eye lids open only to see a blurry darkness with a deep orange glow coming from somewhere within its space. Was in haste to see what place I would find myself. It resolves and I am met with what looked like a ceiling and an unfamiliar woman, old and wrinkly, possibly a decade or two past her prime. Good. My eyes work as well. In the corner of my field of vision the I saw the cobble stone wall. The first impression I got was this place looked dilapidated.

“This isn’t—!” She sound a bit frightful.

“What’s wrong with my boy? Is something the matter? Why isn’t he crying?” That voice, strained as it was it carried such familiarity, resounding with me. That is one belonging to my current mother.

The woman holding me looked to where the voice came before looking back at me.

It been quite a while seeing this old hag has been watching me with her scrutinizing gaze, as if trying to pierce deep into my soul. A bit of weariness, fear and disgust was buried somewhere within it.

I stare back into her eyes as long and deep as she did me when I felt a small tremble from her. I could see sweat gather into drops over her face, not the type one would get from hours of labour, since she was clean when I first saw her.

I have no idea why.

“This child…”

She didn’t hide her fear, a shake in her voice.

“What’s wrong with my boy? He isn’t crying Is he okay?”

“…”

She said nothing only quickly, almost in a swift motion standing up and thrusting me into the arms of a much younger woman

“I shall take my leave.” She added hastily and dashes out.

“Ma’am?”

A dreaded silence took over the room as no one dared to speak.

The one that I was in her arms slowly looked at me unable to hold back her terrified look.

Was I born defective?

It mattered not.

“What’s wrong with him!?” Mother asked, starting to lose herself.

“…”

Much like the old hag, although, I felt this one on the verge of dropping me but she collected herself, even that didn’t do anything to take away her look and the cold sweat. Suddenly I felt my vision rotate, I saw an old type lamp (a lantern) sitting a table not to far—it didn’t look like the only source of light in the room—and I was faced to the floor.

This is the part of my life I’d rather not get into. A simple case where I get smack in the rear, in all honesty I have no clue as to why they need to hear the cries of a newborn. As far as you see I’m alive that should not matter.

And so that’s how it went, although this time I didn’t feel the need to cry. It was a hustle. The pain that was suppose to come with my rear been smacked felt far. Even so this is a routine I would not like to follow, better yet, never hope to ever go through.

Eventually she gave up upon request of my mother in fear of hurting me, after which I was cleaned, wrapped and into a new arms I go. I could still see the woman handling me quite shaken.

I was faced with the one that is my mother. Only to meet a frown which morphed into fear and disgust. Just like the young woman who after handing me over, from the sounds, probably distanced herself, I was nearly dropped. Even if I was I doubted it would have been hurt since she was still lying down at an angle, on a low bed.

“… a demon”

Though I was caught before being drop, my body shaken. Almost like throwing me away I was tossed to the side.

Now this isn’t the first. In a few of my lifetimes discarded moments after my birth. Yet this time the reason is unknown to me. Though I will find out soon.

I can already see how this lifetime would go

*

Intermission: Life, death, existence.

*

The concept of death and reincarnation is indeed a terrifying notion to those unlike us.

The amount of souls existing in the world (in all of existence) is a set figure, nothing new is born or truly destroyed—much like the energy conservation principle, that is if you do not factor in such divine intervention, even so, it still is set. The theory is one created of my own mind but the sentiment has been carried throughout the course of existence.

Souls, ones departed from the physical world and made it into the realm of rest, are purged of their personalities, individuality, experience, memories and made a blank slate, before reshuffled and reused in the cog of life. I call the state of which we are made blank: The Processing.

In technical terms—from my times in the world with technology advancement—the hard drive (soul) would receive a hard reset, purge of old data, and a new O.S. will be installed (a new personality). And as for machine (the physical body) itself; it will be discard and the drive will be placed in a new one.

How would you feel, the uncertainty of achieving the so call ‘eternal rest’? Even if there was such a thing, how boring would it be to feel a long lasting happiness with no true feeling just that one consistence, no pain, no suffering. That is not life but a hell in itself (I said to myself once yet now I yearn for that, though in a sense where all my consciousness, my existence no longer exists).

How would it feel to know you would lose your self after death? Knowing that once you die everything you had experience, everything you have been through; love, attachment, regrets, entertainment, everything ‘you’ would be washed away and you would come back blank, thrusted into a new life? A new life you know nothing of, the possibility of what you had experienced never to come again.

I get it though, just the thought, if I was in your place, just like you. Death is scary, even moreso the uncertainty of whether you will truly live again. So living in the illusion keeps you from the strain of such harmful thoughts. Even the Scriptures I have laid eyes on do say it: that we will be clean, purged of memories and personalities. The fear of losing your (current) self you love. I too was like one of you before suddenly, one time (lifetime) everything came rushing back, from the beginning of it all. At first vague, then clear.

Doesn’t the thought make your heart feel heavy? Knowing that your very existence is going through the same cycle over and over again. An endless repetition of non-linear events until who-knows-when. This thought brought me into the abyss of depression way back many-a-lifetimes ago when I was called Aodhan Wilkerson.

I see the reason to why the masses seek immortality. Yet, they are fools not thinking of the price and repercussions in their search! But I can’t help but want to know: are they trying to avoid the purge of their old selves and memories? Or rather not feel the pain at all? The latter is something that is unavoidable. That very state of ever presence and repetition, called immortality will one day fade the excitement and bring abject boredom and weariness.

This begs the question: Is life really meaningful? Is a life really something valuable(?) if in one point of our lifetimes we have lived fulfilling lives. So why not just go with the flow? The realization of this made me plunge into despair when the thought had hit me in one of my lifetimes. To know that my life is worthless, my experiences are pointless and attachments, meaningless. The hole in my very soul just begun to widen so much that I could not and cannot see the value of the soul itself.

Does it really stop when we die? Or…

Another thought of mine… Is living our lives over and over again really a chance to live a fulfilling life?

People ask the question if whatever they experience was the cause of something they had done in their previous live. Probably… I have no answer but the notion of Karmic Retribution sits right with me even if it’s shallow and subjective. Or are we just thrusted into a life again just to relive pain again? If so, then what for?

All this just feels like once we are cleared of our previous memories we lose a significant part of ourself each time causing the change in personalities in some people due to whichever part of their souls had been taken along the purge. How sadistic!

That said I also understand the need for the processing. To leave behind the old, regrets and everything for a new life, pointless as it may be. This to reduce the conflicting of life experiences and memories if they are kept, unlike us.

The very foundation of this world (worlds in this case) we believe is a confusing tale.

What is the reason of our existence? What is the reason to the beginning of existence as whole?

The thoughts eats away at me every time that I further down the depths of torment and despair. A true hell.