almaranthine
Wizard
- Nov 28, 2019
- 615
You have decided to end your life and after enacting your meticulously researched plan you have now lost consciousness, but instead of shedding this mortal coil forever and entering a peaceful sleep, you are transported backwards through time... to your most ideal "moment" and awaken with all of your memories from the time you've lived through fully in tact. How do you react? What do you proceed to do? Will you be thankful for the opportunity, accept this new consciousness and try to rectify your past life's mistakes, or are you immediately seeking the next easiest way to end it all, hopefully escaping the cycle?Share your thoughts and what your experience would be if you wish. I think this would be mine:
I wake up. It is sometime in October of 2013. I'm laying in a dormitory bed, and my roommate is out. I scream in horror at my surroundings. This must be a cruel, horrible form of cosmic torture, I think to myself. Perhaps we really do live in a simulation after all. Nothing about this situation brings me to believe in a benevolent higher power. I climb down from the lofted mattress and move towards the door in a haze. As I exit into the common area, other students are chatting, seated around tables decorated with laptops, papers, and coffee cups. The tv is on. Laughter echoes from down the hallway. I struggle to believe any of this is real. Deep down, I don't want it to be real. I look down at my hands. There isn't a scar across my left palm—this is my 18 yr old body. I realize I can't even go get a drink if I wanted to. Someone calls out to me, but I feel like a ghost, and instead of responding, I turn right back around and go back into my room, locking the door behind me. I find my old, or rather current, iPhone sitting on the desk. Luckily, it reads my thumbprint, because if it had a passcode, I wouldn't have remembered what it was. The date reads October 23, 2013. There are unopened texts from "friends" of the time, asking me if I can take them out in my car, wanting to drive around and smoke weed. I set the phone back down. I don't want to be here either. I didn't want to be in my last life, and I don't have the mind to be back here, in college. I'm angry more than anything. If I just kill myself again where might I end up? I could change, and become an entirely different person than I was... but that doesn't mean that life will be any easier or more rewarding. It's a complete gamble. I'm spiritually exhausted, permanently tired, and I don't see my internal makeup changing just because I have a supposed chance to "make it all right."
"Fuck this," I say out loud. "I need a cigarette," I mutter as I dejectedly grab my purse and turn towards the door.
I wake up. It is sometime in October of 2013. I'm laying in a dormitory bed, and my roommate is out. I scream in horror at my surroundings. This must be a cruel, horrible form of cosmic torture, I think to myself. Perhaps we really do live in a simulation after all. Nothing about this situation brings me to believe in a benevolent higher power. I climb down from the lofted mattress and move towards the door in a haze. As I exit into the common area, other students are chatting, seated around tables decorated with laptops, papers, and coffee cups. The tv is on. Laughter echoes from down the hallway. I struggle to believe any of this is real. Deep down, I don't want it to be real. I look down at my hands. There isn't a scar across my left palm—this is my 18 yr old body. I realize I can't even go get a drink if I wanted to. Someone calls out to me, but I feel like a ghost, and instead of responding, I turn right back around and go back into my room, locking the door behind me. I find my old, or rather current, iPhone sitting on the desk. Luckily, it reads my thumbprint, because if it had a passcode, I wouldn't have remembered what it was. The date reads October 23, 2013. There are unopened texts from "friends" of the time, asking me if I can take them out in my car, wanting to drive around and smoke weed. I set the phone back down. I don't want to be here either. I didn't want to be in my last life, and I don't have the mind to be back here, in college. I'm angry more than anything. If I just kill myself again where might I end up? I could change, and become an entirely different person than I was... but that doesn't mean that life will be any easier or more rewarding. It's a complete gamble. I'm spiritually exhausted, permanently tired, and I don't see my internal makeup changing just because I have a supposed chance to "make it all right."
"Fuck this," I say out loud. "I need a cigarette," I mutter as I dejectedly grab my purse and turn towards the door.
