Have you ever thought about the concept of forever? It's a word that we often use to express an infinite period of time, but to some, it doesn't seem like a very long time at all. For me, personally, the word 'eternity' doesn't evoke the same passion as it does for everyone else. In fact, I've experienced the true meaning of living forever, or at least, my soul has. It's a strange and fascinating concept, and one that has left me with more questions than answers.

      Each time my body dies, my soul is reborn into a different one.  A different time as a different person.  Everything becomes new but in the same cycle.  I don’t entirely remember the beginning of me, and I don’t know the ‘end’.  If there is one, I hope to stumble into it someday.  I would do anything to breathe my last breath for the last time.  

     Instead, I am stuck in this eternity of living.  Sometimes I am a boy, sometimes a girl, and in some cases I am someone who wants to be the opposite.  Although, I do quite enjoy being a woman.  Besides the fact they are treated differently, and I wish I meant that in a nice way.  

     I’ve searched for the end, but that’s the funny thing about forever, there is no ‘End’.  No cliff to jump off from and no body of water to drown myself in allowing me to sleep until I’m nothing but buried bones in the sand.  

     I’ve met hundreds of strangers in my past lives, and made many friends knowing the consequence of it all.  That I was going to outlive them all, not to them though, but it was a feeling of loneliness that would overcome me.  It’s also a feeling of being absolutely useless.  All I can do is live and die. 

    For a long time it bothered me, I had spent lifetimes searching for answers.  For, maybe even, someone like me.  For, a reason, why I am the only one who is put through this misery.  I know there are people who would kill for this kind of ‘blessing’.  Believe me, I would give it to them if I could.  But, to me, it is a curse from hell.  

    Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about life, it is not worth it.  Saying goodbye to those you love but having to do it a thousand times with a different crowd of people.  Not being able to tell anyone about it, even if I did it wouldn’t be of any significance.  Plus, I have tried that on countless occasions. No one has ever believed me. 

Except for once, her name was Darla, and she was a rare soul.  

    The year was 1945 when we met.  It was at the Jungle Gym on a very warm and sunny day.  She was wearing a lovely pink dress with a pinafore thrown on top.  She was only a year older than I was. I was an 11-year-old boy named William.  I had amazing parents, went to a decent school and lived an abundant lifestyle.  I don’t like to remember much about my past lifetimes, it only brings sorrow.  But on my really bad days, I like to welcome the thought of Darla. Back at the swings, eating ice cream, talking about what kids usually talk about.  

     We began spending many days together in the years to come.  We went to the same school as well.  I suppose, seeing each other often leads up to the next part of the story.  By the time we reached our teenage years, she started sending me small signals that she had feelings for me.  Sure enough, I developed some for her as well.  Not too long after that we started to go out on dates.  Whether it be the movie house, a picnic, or just a walk around the neighborhood. Long story short, I fell powerfully in love with her.  

     One day, as we were sitting in the very same spot we had met, she asked me if I ever thought about what the future would be like.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Of course, I told her no. To my surprise, she asked me why I had lied to her, while also having a playful smirk on her face. 

She knew, partially.  

    She had assumed I was from the future, and in some way, I was.  Some words I would use, and how I had explained things to her, gave her the idea.  She was really into reading books and obsessing over the impossible, so it didn’t seem too far-fetched to her.  She told me, “You view the world like you’ve created it with your own two hands.”  In that moment, I knew I could tell her about my many lives, and it wouldn’t change things between us. 

So, I did. She believed everything. 

    She asked me a million questions about how things were for me, which we would sometimes laugh about.  She would only ask me about the past and future, never about the lives I’ve lived.  I don’t blame her, most of them were depressing if not harsh.  

    From that moment on, we were inseparable.  We would go out often, visit each other in the evenings until nightfall, sometimes even sneak over to each other’s places.  

    As the years flew by, I had often found myself wondering how life would be if she was my wife.  Being with her had made me nearly forget about the entire ‘never truly dying’ thing.  So I worked up the courage, which to me it was terrifying but also exhilarating, and asked her to be my Fiancé. 

    Eventually, we married and ended up having four wonderful kids. Their names were James, Susie, Eleanor, and Thomas.  I’d say we were incredible parents, we always made time to care for each of them.  Our life was a dream come true, from my perspective.  Every second apart from each other, my heart would yearn for her touch.  I spent hours providing for my family, years of love and laughter. 

If only it had lasted longer than it did.  

   She had gotten really sick when we hit our 40s, Cancer.  They only gave her a year to live. Not nearly enough time to show her how important she was to me. Darla, being the strong woman she was, lasted a few years longer than expected. 

    We tried to make the most of the situation, but we knew how it would end.  If I am being honest, she made it seem like I was the one who had fallen ill.  She’d always ask how I was feeling, always holding me when I’d break down.  

  It’s hard to watch the one you love so adequately break little by little.  Like, a rose progressively losing its petals in the Winter.  

    She passed on December 22, 1989, at the age of 44.  “Don’t worry, my darling, I will see you in the next life. This is goodbye, for now.”  Those were the last words she spoke to me as she held my cheek in her hands and kissed me for the last time. I regret not saying anything as her hand turned cold. I wish I could go back, just for a moment and whisper into her ear, ‘Let’s never say goodbye’. 

    I made a promise to myself, to never fall in love again. I couldn’t even give her the Christmas present I had made for her, a small model of two kids on a swing set.  

    I was so angry for so long after that.  Angry at the fact I couldn’t help her, or that I had to live forever without her by my side.  I had to go on knowing I could never love like that again.  I tried to bare the pain, but all I could think of is ending it all.  I couldn’t put my kids through that though, Darla would have wanted me to stay for them. 

    That’s the closest thing to ‘in the beginning’ as I could think of.  That was one of my first lifetimes as far as I could remember.  There is no future, present, or past for me.  Only one extremely chaotic, endless, loop.  

   If I was able to make a choice, my first lifetime would have been with Darla, and it would have been my last.