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|I have... I Had an ending to this story idea, but I couldn't figure out how to link the two together. 'Prelude' is as far as I wrote, and likely to stay there.||
What if you woke up and found out that your whole life, was a lie? Well, guess what, I go through that every single day; or so I think it's a day. It's hard to tell time exactly. I just keep waking up; it's like I never sleep. In fact, I can't remember ever really going to sleep so maybe I don't. But if you think in terms that every time I wake up I start a new day, my life changes completely every single "morning." And I just live with it.
It's unnerving, I won't deny that; though you get used to it, after a while… not really. But you can achieve a certain level of dullness after a number of days. The inconsistancy becomes somewhat routine. How many days, I can't say as I gave up trying to keep count; and X number of days plus a variable of y for the unknown number of days before doesn't help. It would probably differ greatly depending on the subject anyway. Or the subject's soundness of mind. Sanity… the ability to accept Insanity rather, perhaps.
Write it down, you might say to those who have poor memory. Pointless. Everytime I wake up, anything I wrote in the day before is lost. It makes no difference. I can't even remember my past or childhood if I even had one to begin with, I can't remember if I age. I mean, each day depending on the events I remember bits of memory relevant to that dayline, I feel like "this is my life, that's John, oh that's where I work, and last week my room-mate had a birthday and my friend died in a car crash"...
And then I wake up and it changes again.
My name is Jane… that's not really my name, though it could be. You see, even though my brain provides data relevent to each life (enough to intergrade myself into that day) I can't remember a childhood. Not one.
I was never identified as far many days as I can remember. There were never any records and no one knew me from before I became "Jane." The amnesia is the only constant thing in my… lives, I think. Or maybe my Days comes in blocks and I've forgotten the Days when I remembered my past. But that's okay, we can use Jane here. Not that it matters. Even as I write this, I know this paper will be lost to me tomorrow.
So why do I bother? I don't know. I suppose even though this paper will be lost to me, perhaps it won't be lost to others? Maybe all these Days are real, existing simultaniously and parallel to each other. Perhaps there are others like me. Maybe together, the different Days and different Daywakers can help each other. Maybe we were meant to. Maybe we need to. And maybe I read too many science fiction books.
Fascinating stories, actually. Though they would be altogether more whimsically enjoyable if it didn't feel like I was living one.
It would be interesting however, if there were some way to collect all these papers or pieces. A compilation of notes. A Daywaker Journal or Journey Log.
|Sea Foam||Trapped (Poem)|
|She Lives in Dreams||Dreams|