That first night was so great.
I often think back to that cool, autumn night I shared a room with thirteen strangers in an old, unkempt brick building on the river bank. The room was small, dark and musty, but it was warm and the scent of freshly-brewed coffee was strong. For the two hours I spent sitting around a long, wooden table with the strangers, I was silent. I observed. I listened. The hours passed like minutes as I was completely immersed in the horrific and touching stories of the strangers, one after another. My presence that night was not voluntary, though I would not have traded my experience for any other.
Brother, I'm sure this means very little to you at this point. I crossed lines and burnt a bridge. A bridge that is very important to me. However, I must apologize. Apologize: a word that doesn't even come close to what I want to give you. What I owe you. I love and appreciate you more thank you will ever know. You're the hero. The true definition of a man in these wicked days. You have given me so much. You were there for me. I look up to you. Since my very first memories of you, I've looked up to you. For me to throw things away like I did was not only childish and disgusting, but sad and pathetic. An outburst for the ages.
He has collected a million items from a million lives. As he grew and as he grows, he's bouncing and drifting from identity to identity. Thinking he is lost, wondering which pit stop will be home, he hits it: He is comprised of all. A Frankensteined soul. The thought of belonging to a particular era dissolves and the next era is built like a brick wall, constructed with unconscious patience. Take your time. Memorabilia from lives before this one, and surely before the previous take on new meaning and provoke new thought. What interests him today will surely be collected and hung above the fireplace. It will be researched and it will be loved. Formed into a brick and placed carefully with the others. He is learning. He is growing. Urges and desires from past lives, just now understood, still hang in the air. He spent all his time in last year's body attempting this understanding. Only now, with a new self and fresh urges and desires, does he understand those of yesteryear.