Even before the man was fully awake, his past had returned to haunt him. It started with flickers of memory, snippets of conversations from his childhood, hurtful things which stung his soul anew. Then came fragments of longing for a girl whose heart now belonged to another, and the pain he’d attached to her erstwhile departure from his life.
Laying there under the covers, the sky outside his bedroom window yet dark, ancient modes of suffering coursed through his mind, familiar pathways that he’d worn deep into the essence his being through constant repetition. Happiness too flowed through him, but it was stunted, its blossoming retarded by his decision to be teleported back to events that existed solely within his neural circuitry.
‘I alone am responsible for the daily reliving of these pains and pleasures,’ he thought to himself as he prepared his meditation area. ‘To rid myself of them, I must either die, or rob them of power by meditating.’ Since he did not feel like dying that day, he sat down, closed his eyes, and began to breathe - with purpose.
americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥