Repetitive Reality

         There are days when, upon awakening, you just have this gut feeling that the world has painted a red and white target on your forehead. Being cursed to experience eternity in its entirety means you experience a great many of these days. Being gifted of an almost-full memory wipe and subsequent aesthetic rejuvenation every decade or so means that you are very familiar with the sensation of déjà vu. These three phenomenons combine to create the most obnoxious repetition of life, and my outlook on life has steadily declined in the last four centuries. To be blunt, it’s getting really, really old.

         I’d like to point out that I encounter “those days” on average of once a week. I’d also like to say that for every Day I have, I get flashes of some of the horrors and atrocities I’ve come across in the Days of past “lives.” It’s almost like I’m living five Days at once.

         So, not only is my bad luck and metaphorical forehead target annoying, it’s painful. Taunting me, these Days almost come as a blessing. They give me insight to what I was like a decade (or ten) before. In truth, I don’t know that my memory is being stolen or that I’ve been put through a reverse aging process. For all my theories, it could be reincarnation followed by an advanced aging process, all because of some unique ultra-rare recessive gene I may have inherited. Either way, I’m cursed by this daunting mystery.

         The memory errors I receive have been named “amnesia attacks” by the college psychologist when I decided to humor him, just once. He had advised me to check into a mental institution upon gaining the knowledge (in much less blunt terms. I believe his exact words were, “Hm. Maybe it would best if you had follow-up appointments with specialists in this field,” I kid you not.) I cannot allow that to happen – ever. Upon awakening fourteen years younger than I was during my last dope-up time, the attendants would claim me a medical miracle and, since I have no knowledge of any living descendants I may have (I was born at least four centuries prior, remember) I’d end up in federal custody. Needless to say, I’d be ousted as a freak and pinched and poked at.

         Now, I honestly don’t know what do.

         The Days have been becoming more frequent.

         My recollections bring conflict to my current beliefs.

         I truly believe I am a helpless headcase.

         Please, help me.

         Help me find my answers before someone picks up my memory cycles again. The last one to know met a very prompt, unfortunate death.