Next time you are in a crowded room, filled to the brim with them, just stand still and watch. Watch how they move and talk. Get into their minds, see how they all drift the same way, act as if they were wired together. Sure each person is different to the next, but no, they are all the same. Their brains, they have been beaten and forced into molds to make them move those ways, say those things. They all have strings and bindings around their individuality. Where is the sense of creativity anymore? Why are we witnessing the past in the future? Why is the same thing happening over and over again?

For centuries I have watched them. They all want to fit into the same fish bowl. All of them want the same things. Sure, there's an odd ball here and there, but it's still a brand of goldfish, still has those big empty eyes and small brain and miniscule self awareness. To think I was like them, walking in the same worn paths, talking the same dried up topics.

I have changed now, outgrown my fishbowl and now I am outside of it. Tapping the glass and watching them scutter away. You think it would be wonderful to have the sense of freedom I have, to not be stuck with boundaries and be able to reach my full potential. It was for the first century and a half, I suppose. But, by now I have realized that I too follow the same frayed path they all wander. I struggle to fit in, I worry about useless things, I find myself getting ready for a future that will repeat itself in the next life I live aware.

I suppose the reason why I chose this path for myself is because I didn't understand. I was clouded with the not understanding, the incomprehensiveness of the human desire to be the same. It was disgusting to me. Why? Why be the same when you have the potential to be different? Here I was, being forced into the same mold they all were, but I knew I didn’t have to be like them all. I didn’t have to be the girl of the house and sweep away my life when I could easily go out and fight for my country. But I grew old with this knowing, this candle alight in my head. It scares me to think I could have died without being who I wanted. But now, now I have been that person so many times that I find myself tired of rebellion. Tired of being the same defiant person over and over. I cannot leave this path. But, I wouldn’t lie and say I regretted it either.

Ask me again in a few centuries, after another thousand incarnations if I regret the decision I made in my first life. My answer, I fear, might not be the same.