Alive on the Train
How can you be missing if you don't have memories that are to be missed..
It was true that she received much more than she was ever to have known. However, it was not her fault, she had received this innate gift of perception that extended far past the realm of what others known as intelligence. It was not as if she asked for this awareness. An oppositive life she lived, equally as stagnant as it was dynamic. A never ending back and forth, living up to what she knew she was capable of while attempting to live up to what society expected of her. And yet, to the outsider, she remained unchanged.
Overthinking held a position and priority in her life, if not the highest. Overthinking, to her, became as natural as breathing. For her, there was respiration and there was rumination. At times, forgetting her own breath, rumination would assume responsibility for keeping her alive. Comments of being told that she was "too smart for her own good" weighed deeply upon her. It was those type of comments, along with everything else ever spoken aloud to her, that lived deep within her. They remained housed in her, somewhere deep, eventually needing to break out to the surface once again. Words spoken to her were so impossible for her to escape. She was imprisoned by her own mind. She was confined to nonexistent perimeters within herself. It was here that she could never get it quite right.
At the end of the day, she was always alone, left to her own thoughts. She possessed a never-ending dialogued that constantly led her down the path of recourse. She explained the chronology of her life in sequences, and she described her time here on this Earth as a collection of past lives lived. She had a way of taking the most complex ideas of this world and making them less concrete.
Waking up alone on a train, without identification, is nothing short of what she had already imagined. She laughed silently to herself, because she knows there is someone somewhere watching all of this unfold and she initially thinks that she knows what "they" want. Her laugh deepens as she reminds herself of the numbers of times, she has referred to the powers that be as "they" and wonders if she will ever find out who "they" are. She may not and she may. If anyone would, it would be her. As a means of distractions, she comes to the realization that someone desperately needs for her to react poorly in this scenario. As if someone isn't "off the hook" until they can discredit her, take from her, and leave her identification unknown. Again, her own internal consciousness ignites and her soul sets fire versus being set on fire.
She may have never imagined a scenario such as this but, she is already ahead. Truth is, she always has been. She could not describe it then and she still cannot describe it now. She has learned to search through all her negative spaces to find the silver linings. So, for her, being alone on a train, is nothing new, so to speak. She has been alone. She has fallen asleep alone. She has woken up alone. She has woken up to unfamiliar places alone almost every day of her life. She realizes this is just another one of those worst-case scenarios that she had played out time and time again. The person who has brought her here is already so unaware of how they have already lost this battle, because they have already underestimated her. They have misinterpreted being lost or unknown as not having an actual possession of a physical or tangible ID card. Little do they know how unfit and lost she has already considered herself, and she never required documentation to prove that before, nor was that going to be a thing now.
In her mind of being one in this spiritual world, realizes that she has lived so many lives, she knows much better. She is much more versed in the idea that a name on a plastic card truly demonstrates no person, no character, no real or true identification, even if they decide to call it a "real ID". To her and to the mind that matters, it truly only demonstrates ownership. Initially, she thought she knew that she was dealing with an infantile, perhaps even one from her own country.
Who wants her hidden? Who wants her found? Who wants her dead? Who wants her around? Who wants her knowledge? Who wants to destroy her? To each question there was more than one answer. Ultimately, she knew. Within minutes of finding herself, awakening from a drugged slumber, she knew. She had done the impossible. She had singlehandedly brought "Big Pharma" down to the ground to burn.
She had not done this deliberately and she had not done this with ill intent or even intent at all. When so much evil exists in one place, balance will ultimately be restored and good will spontaneously manifest. Forces will revolt against the good because it is unfamiliar. Forces of evil will, ultimately, be met with failure. In this instance, good decided to step up to the plate, and for some reason, it had chosen her to swing. With her, good had manifested itself through knowledge and she was the only one who could interpret the book of truth, so to speak.
In her mind, her undeniable fate was to suffer the lives of the women who have gone before her. Women whose lives were short, unfulfilled, confused, and dead with an onset way before date of expiration. Sufferable deaths in long term care facilities as her great grandmothers, grandmothers, aunts, and mother, who had died before her. She refused to accept their life as her own. She refused to decompose before she was by deemed dead by a medical professional. She promised herself to live life differently, different than everyone else. She was determined to find a cause. She was destined to find a cure. And with that, she did. And when she did, the "real world" rejected her, thinking no person, let alone a woman, could ever potentially "break the system". Yet here she has and here she is, or at least she was. Now she is on a train, moving at record speeds to her immediate death.
Truth is, anyone could have found out the whys of this pseudo world we are living. Anyone could have "solved the puzzle"; however, most of those people are referring to this life as "reality". She was the only one who deviated from the norm long enough to be able to think again. To really think. To think like she did when she was a kid. When we were all kids, when our thinking was real. When our thinking was independent. When our thinking was a creation accredited to our own minds. When time was much simpler because as children, we already knew who we were. As children, we wasted no time on describing, delegating, and defending our being to anyone who crossed our paths. We were so sure of ourselves and more importantly, our dreams and aspirations of what could be. When life was lived with good intentions and not being concerned about the fine print following the asterisk. When we lived to be, not when we live to become afraid of the casualties and caveats this "reality" has created. What happened along the way?
She found the answer to the problem that she was bound and determined to solve. She had discussed her findings and told many people of her findings. Immediately disregarded because without what medical professionals call research, she had no credit. Nor did she have a medical degree. But the girl was right. She knew what Alzheimer's truly was instead of living blindly as to what Alzheimer's is not. The world had everything backwards and she was the only one to put it into forward motion. The local motion raised its opposition and refused, combusted, and only left her broken. It was there, among the tracks, that she once stood, and it is now inside the train, that she now sits. She sits, as a runaway on a fast-travelling train. Perhaps a stowaway or a refugee. Her labeling it mattered very little. Bounded by the physical limits of the train yet her mind is still and forever boundless. You cannot lock up an internal consciousness, the fact that continues to somehow escape the control freaks of her previous "reality".
When she introduced her idea to her world, aka, those living and breathing closest to her, they laughed. They mocked her and they discredited her. They did everything that she had already known what they were going to do. She had already prepared for that scenario, as it was different than any other reaction she had ever received in her life, but she thought "maybe... just MAYBE this one time".
Little did she know that unraveling the truth and understanding of Alzheimer's, was going to bring light to so much darkness that existed in this world, specifically, to her own country. She would get so excited about her own innovations, that momentarily, she forgot about the blood sucking succubus's that complicated everything in what should have been a rather simple existence. Before she could get out her words of rationality, they spit on her, in her own homeland. Stamp of discreditation from the land of the free.
She knew that Alzheimer's was only a further extension of unresolved mental health from a person's earlier days. She knew it was a lack of love, a lack of oxytocin. A life of misunderstanding and lack of being understood, led to a death of the same way.
By the time a person of age could even begin to articulate this, their minds, their systems, and their processes had already become so calcified and so polypharmacized that actual brain and body damage was already in the works, knowing that if a person were to go for a scan, they could provide proof of Alzheimer's, which is after all, a man-made illness.
When she identified this, for the second time, she decided to put this out into the world via Instagram. She was the one who knew that the only cure for "Alzheimer's" was oxytocin. The only cure to making people's "dysfunctional" brains work again in this dysfunctional world was obvious to her. It was obvious the only way to fix misunderstood brains is to understand them and to love them. She did not need a medical degree to solve that riddle. However, in her creative and innovative thinking, she broke the system. However, she didn't have the money. She was not rich in terms of finances. She could not have paid for a way out, even if she had wanted to. Then she met those that she was up against. Those that held all the money, those that were the money. Big Pharma. The FDA. Government. Doctors. Police. Administrators of every sort. Everyone. Everyone was involved.
She was hated by every exec in the big pharma industry. She was feared by every long-term care administrator. Medical providers and medicine manufacturers all wanted her dead. She was the only one who consistently saw good over evil, and she was the only one rocking their metaphorical financial security.
She was hired to be killed by many capitalists who saw what she had to say only as an inconvenient truth. They did not see her truth as a wake-up call to live a better life. They saw her truth only as a threat to their cushy lifestyles. In their dysfunctional self-righteous minds, it was better to kill all that interrupted their influx of never-ending cash, selfishly stealing from humanity. Like it was mentioned earlier, people that survived this way, were only parasites. All they have ever been and all they ever will be, are blood suckers. Every parasite requires a host for survival, so remove the host, and you remove the parasite.
Here she is again, going through the same familiar rumination, but this time, it is different. She is finally moving through time and space just as quickly as her own thoughts. Finally, she feels comfort in knowing that her environment is keeping pace with that of her own mind. In these quiet moments of solitude, she realizes that she has already lived the worst, a misunderstood mind. Whatever the destination, this train is bound for a new beginning, and she realizes that whoever has put her on this train, has done so for her best interest.
Just as quickly as she remembers what it once felt to be undervalued, her mind meanders forward to feelings of being valued. She reflects upon what she was taught to feel in her previous life, and she releases her soul to the confines of that nonexistent reality. She says goodbye to everything and everyone that considered her process of thought as neurotic. Those indicators that existed within the realm of her old life, do not exist here, at least not yet. Perhaps where she is going, is a pace that does not consider an independent mind as warning, tedious, or wasted time.
She may not know where she is going, but she is free in knowing that she does not have to return to where she was. She has left that life that constantly chose greed over good. For a moment, she does not have to pretend to be anything, and she does not need to pretend to be anyone other than who she is. And in that, she feels alive. Even if alone on a train without a destination, she is alive.
About the author
A spirit having a human experience. Join me on this journey to popularize self-discovery, self-love, and love for mankind. Promise to never stop asking the world "Why?". Because nothing is as it was once thought to be.....