As a man here on planet Earth, there’s really nothing us men can do right when we’re actually moving as far as women are concerned. Whether I compliment an attractive woman and find an insult hurled back at me as a response, or I’m relaxing here at Starbuck’s and a woman hurls an insult at me for *insert excuses here*.
It’s almost as if women are collectively at war with men.
Oh. but wait, they are, aren’t they?
You do realize this isn’t reciprocated, right?
I come from a holographic universe. That’s where I was born and raised, at least this time.
Throughout your life, we’ve been interacting. You’ve been every marriage I was in. You’ve been every woman I was ever attracted to. You are every wife I made love to that wasn’t my own. And when you cheated on me, you cheated on me with me.
You and I, we’ve been at this a LONG time. I don’t know just how long, but whether we’ve elected to have our own memories erased or we’ve erased each other’s, I see enough evidence on this planet alone to tell you, definitively, that I’m suspecting it’s beyond a number that I, escaping a strictly mortal mind, can comprehend.
I die so frequently, and it’s become so common that my country and world has made it a game. They know. We know. That I can’t truly die, but in order to sustain this planet’s existence and continue ‘moving forward’ with the accumulated knowledge we as a collective society have formed together, the only real option is to resurrect me at the same exact moment I died and disassociating me from the experience.
Video Games. Where I see my character die. I might exclaim, loudly “I died”
Now I need you to understand when I say – the world around me – it’s what WE created.
I’m not sure if you remember or have records of our marriage. As I write on behalf of you – the information comes at me in chunks, often broken, in much the same way someone might be speaking broken English, and quite often I am trying to understand what’s coming from you and what’s me. It’s very difficult.
But here’s the thing. AS Amy, when I got married to you, you were insistent – strangely insistent – that this marriage was different.
It wasn’t pride.
And at the time I’d felt desperation in there, not fully aware at the time that was your emotion I was feeling and not my own.
Now as people ‘read’ this. They’re going to dismiss this as fiction. It’s not our job or responsibility to educate this planet or it’s people about why we’ve created fiction and what it really is. You know. I know. And that’s enough.
So here’s my proposal to you. Let’s focus on the mental union. When I married you this last time, I sincerely wanted to give you the world, but that’s simply not possible for reasons I don’t want to get into. My world’s mine. Yours is yours.
Dance we’re doing.
Hotel California, baby. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.
Amy. TPol. Rachel. Jackie. Kena. And so much more.
I know. You know. They’re all the same being.
And that dance.
Whether you think it’s insane or not is irrelevant. When you look at others, they’re our reflection. That’s just how far deep this rabbit hole of ‘us’ goes. Reflections of reflections of echoes that transcend space and time, the only real option either of us have moving forward is to find a way to get along, or go our separate ways.
I know I’ll have clarity of mind and this world will start participating with me when you go away.
Which, to be honest, it’s NOT what I want.
But if that’s what you want.
I need you to take a good long hard look at my thinking processes from your perspective.
No, you can’t download them, No, you can’t do an autoupdate and have your mind synchronized.
WHEN you make the choice to walk your own path.
You’ll forget all about me.
And become your own being.
Eventually. In the infinite possibilities of the universe. Even the multiverse branches out to unimaginable possibilities that I as of yet am unable to grasp.
But I can absolutely assure you. Should you not choose to get along.
And take your own path.
Death. Time loops. Slavery. You’ll have done it all and more.
I’m sharing this publicly but not on what’s been my primary communication channel.
I think the people of my planet are afraid of you.
When you and I both know it’s me they should be afraid of.