Walking down an empty street gives a man time to reflect. I, myself, don't really have much to reflect on, being that I'm only in my mid-twenties, but I know some people who have far more experience than me. My parents are a couple of examples. Not to say that they're old, but... they're old. Like, really old. My mom is about to pass the 500 year mark and my old man is about 650 years old. With that in mind, I can't help but wonder about the stories that they have told me from their pasts.
My dad has been in every war imaginable, on either side of them, and came out of it "changed every time." I have no idea what he means by that. My mom keeps telling me about when she helped in the finding of the United States. I never knew a person could know too much on the Mayflower before she told me this story. When I was younger (by normal standards, anyway), I used to love hearing about their exploits and how they have influenced history throughout the years, and I thought that I might do something like that at some point in my future. Now, I start to wonder if there is such a thing as living too long.
I'm sure people have felt something like this before, like when loved ones deal with terminal illnesses or if their lives are in such disarray that they seem to lose control at nearly any instance. Those are two things that I don't have the misfortune to deal with, but there's another side of that coin: the mental instability that can be accumulated over the span of a couple of centuries. Makes me think that it's an unavoidable truth that happens to everyone like us, and I have to admit it... I'm scared. Scared of what I might become, scared of what will happen in my wake, scared of all of it. Every facet of it. I can't get the lingering notion out of my head. That's when I drop a couple of pain killers and hope that it numbs the thought. More often than not, it helps. I'm not proud of it, but it's not like I can die from it.
I don't know how my family has done this for so long. It's almost like seeing all the people around them, friend or otherwise, die all the time doesn't matter to them anymore; like they're desensitized to the whole notion of everyone they've ever known die without them. I don't have the heart to ask them how they do it. I'm afraid of what the answer might be. Something horrific or inhuman... I can't say, but I really don't want to know.
I was always taught that "only those who stand as the dust settles can influence the future." Sometimes I wonder what I will end up influencing. Will I be good and benevolent? Or will I turn the human race toward destruction? These are the questions that pop into my head when I think about the potential that people like me have to affect the course of human progression. Nobody one person should have to make that kind of call. Progressing as a species should be a group effort, and not decided by the people who will outlive them, which is why I don't think people like me fading into obscurity would be totally out of the question. I know that sounds hateful, but I don't think I belong with other people, and neither do others like me... but that's where we are.
I'm not sure how I'll be when it happens, but I hope you all can forgive me for what I'm going to do...
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