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Rated: · Fiction · Other · #1687140
the question of where we began
We just took all this back ground radiation, and made a pitcher with its moments lost in time.

All we are is radio waves, a form of light, which runs fast but is, slowed down to be viewed, the light congregates around the story tellers, creating a full motion pitcher.

The decaying mater that is one life taking on another the half-life is a term used in chemistry for the time it takes for an element to lose half of its former self or strength, to the environment that surrounds it, in other words the rate it is dying at, or the rate that others are taking from it, but a half-life allows for no real death, just been weekend a halve at a time.

I think the first thing said was don’t believe, then I will show you I will all of myself, to all of you, I won’t keep to myself for myself, and I will show you all the nothing, that I have been hiding from you.

Created the first explosion, that was the exploration of the life beyond one life, separating its self, headed in the same form, in all directions, all with the same knowledge to start with, and all come back different, due to each and every one having a different trip on a path through differences, every one that goes through the journey never comes out quite the same way.

Everybody has lived a different life, and has learned different things about themselves and others, as they walk throw the world of me, myself, and I, along the way running it other, people that are me myself and I.

I am many different people in my mind, because my mind is empty space and open to anyone I meet if they enter they never leave because some part of me is always taking something from the world I see, and I can’t help but listen to the opinion of others and take some of that on board, as a perspective of my view of their take on their life and how it affects this or that, notes are written down often though the first sources of the information is often forgotten, and when asked where did you get that from, the answer is for me fucked if I know, I can’t remember, who pulled the trigger, but I tried to understand the impact, that is the memory of having heard something from someone about something, and it made a lasting impact in my mind, even though the messenger may not have been kept.

Over time my empty space becomes full, and confusion looms over me I now hold to many opinions to be just one, there are now too many ways, too many variant’s, I as one cannot hold onto too much because everyone wants to be different and has different needs, and it would be impossible to create a world where all needs are meet.

Yet strangely I believe this is exactly the world I live in is, all needs being meet, and no one truly gets exactly what they wanted.

The life and times of god cannot be deleted an cannot be unwritten once recorded by the living, but the story can be warped, we rewrite history we were forced to not talk about the past in exchange we get to keep our lives, but have to live new shorter story, where no god did anything wrong.

Every life that has ever been lived is stored in part, written to the story is wars that where fort and hard one, D.N.A is what makes up a body, but what it learns from its life, it keeps recorded, of any challenge that it’s life has faced, when another tried to take its life, it remembers its battles and keeps the defenses used to survive the attack in close quarters, in case of future battles with a similar attacker.

My life although short in my mind, just as long as this life time, but it carries with it knowledge learned by all of the lives of all that have come before me, life is a continual process of the exchange of information.

D.N.A is the record of all life’s lessons, all the partnerships ever made, all the wars ever fort.

Each new life records more to the story that was passed on to them, and although I cannot access most of the information that is held by the code, I know that a peace of every one that has lived before me, is still inside of me living there life  unnoticed by me, they know how to warn me against some things, and help watch over me.

How many lives does it take to make one life, and if it takes more than one life what are all the other life’s that created the one, and why doesn’t the one created know the ones that created them.

How many lives are killed by me, just so I can feel like I am the only one here, who has to hide from me, too make me feel alone, in a world created by other lives, that work with me, to convince me this world was created for me to see who created it for me.

But it is still hard for me to forgive myself for all I have done to the ones that helped me build this body I reside in because I never truly new them, or I have completely forgotten them, because I am to blinded by myself, and who I think I am.



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