I still feel like an outsider. Particularly today for some reason.
It’s an old clichè, but an accurate one. The darkness is all I know now. I’ve known it for so long that I don’t know any different. People come and people go, no one stays. Those that came were anchors, a way for me to find a way out of the darkness, then they got scared and moved on. Leaving me in the darkness again, always in the darkness. My son is a beacon in the darkness, but he is t the way out, I fear he never will be. Not yet anyway, maybe one day. If it’s not too late.
The darkness is all around me, the darkness fights to invade my body, my mind. I can hear it pleading to let me in, and I am weak, I will give in eventually. It’s a fight I can never win, no matter how hard I fight, the darkness is everywhere and it always wins. When the darkness wins its prize of me (and lets be honest here, the darkness eventually wins in the end), I will no longer be surrounded by the darkness, I will be the darkness.
“The following is accredited to an anonymous individual. I agree completely and wholeheartedly.
OK. Look, the issue of same-sex marriage is simple. I’m tired of hearing every shitty justification against it and about how it’s a sensitive and complicated issue. It’s not at all.
1) If marriage is a religious institution defined by biblical principles, then the government has no authority to establish marriage as the only legally recognized civil union (Amendment I – “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, …”).
2) If the government is going to define marriage and thus the benefits thereof, such as tax rates, healthcare, survivor benefits, etc., then it cannot restrict those privileges to certain citizens (Amendment XIV – No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; …).
So, the government is bound by the Constitution to either:
1) Butt out of marriage entirely. Legally recognize the civil union of any two consenting adults and relegate marriage to a religious institution that individuals can enter into if they so choose. Religious groups, as is their freedom, can then define marriage and restrict it to whomever they choose.
2) Lift the restrictions on marriage.”
The Egg is a short story by Andy Weir, I found it a few years ago and incomplete on a Tumblr post, it had the above header image and someone had truncated the body, ever since then I have always come back to it. It’s curious, it’s thought-provoking, and it’s it is honest.
By: Andy Weir
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh, lots. Lots and lots. An into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life, you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg,” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
I wish I could remember your name. It’s been on the tip of my tongue for almost thirty years now. You drift in and out of my dreams like a ghost drifting through walls. I would give my life to see you safe and alive again. I would give my life to have you not kidnapped, raped, and murdered. To not have your family destroyed.
The dreams where I’m dying (to save you), (really) are the best I ever had. One of the few times where I am truly happy. All I want to do is stop him, stop him from taking you, doing those things to you that should never have been done. That asshole paid, but not nearly enough.
I may not remember your name (and believe me, I want to!), but I will always remember you, and who you were to me.