Emotions

<third title goes here>

There you have it, folks. I died... but that was the beginning of my boring life.

Eternity has to be the worst curse one can be afflicted with. I have seen so many things in my life. Men going to war, killing each other senselessly over trivial things. Wealth passing from hand to hand in dubious schemes. I have seen everything. A millennium of pure boredom with the day never passing since I died.

Let me explain this. After my "death", I woke up to the chirping of annoying birds in the morning. It made me believe it was a dream. How could it not be since I was alive and well and the date was still the very same one as the day I died? The morning was the same, the woman made great toast and I acknowledged it with a nod. The school was the same, up until I saw the angel and asked her if she was fine.

Déjà vu. I have that feeling. I would know since I have experienced it 365250 times... and it never gets easier.

Sometimes I never talk to the angel, sometimes I let her be as she wallows in her sadness. Sometimes she's not sad at all. Sometimes she's absent from school altogether. No instance has been the same, but it always ends in the same fashion.

Me dead and waking up to the annoyance of chirping birds.

I stopped going to school. The woman I live with does not know of this, of course. Her memory of my current events only stretches to the day before I started looping.

At first, it was incredible. I felt a rush of invincibility. Nothing could faze me in the least bit. Eighteen forever and an endless cheat to life. I was a complete raging dick to anyone who had the displeasure of meeting me for that day. But the magnificence of it held wonder to me. I collected everything worth collecting in this life, even if I only got to use it once before it vanished in the morning.

The deaths were random. I have burned, drowned, been shot, stabbed and been in accidents of different natures so many times I lost count. I think it's because my memories are not eternal. I realized this when I woke up two hundred repeat days later and forgot the way to school. I tried writing down what I knew on books to keep a record, but the writing vanished the very next day. It seemed the only thing to loop had to be on my body.

I thought about tattoos, but there was only so much writing my body could hold. And also asking someone to write what I wanted could have me committed to an asylum for an entire day.

That's a waste of a healthy 24 hours in a day.

It took me 365 repeat days to solve my memory retention problem, and it was so easy I almost laughed at my idiocy. My reincarnation for the same day applies to me and my entire existence. This is to mean that whatever has the same DNA as I do will forever be destined to loop the day just as I do. So all I need to do to keep the journal alive is smear some blood on every page I write on.

Worked like a charm. Solving the issue of memory retention did not elevate the current problem I had though. I had been so focused on plundering the world and having my memories backed up; I forgot the biggest issue of all.

I was never going to age nor successfully stay dead.

That's when I embarked on the journey... the endless and most boring journey to end my life.

As you can see from the above events, I am hopelessly failing at staying dead.

It would have been better if time moved. Better if I saw people flourishing from whichever state they were into another. But all I see is the same dull thing repeated in different variations and occurrences. It has me wary of talking to people. A conversation today will be forgotten by the time I meet my "end" tomorrow.

What's the use of forming any kind of interaction with whoever I know?

I don't know anymore. So I just exist now with no true intent to end myself or this boring existence. I have literally lost the will to live. But I do not have the strength to stay dead.

"Hey, you!"

That's my angel's voice. Meaning I chose to go to school today. This happens from time to time. I usually make a choice in the morning and by the afternoon, I forget why I did it. It's not an important recollection so it doesn't go into "The Red Book". I made up that name myself.

Get it... because of the blood... oh, forget it.

"Don't you have Spanish right now?" there goes my memory making a contradiction of itself. I just forgot the reason I came to school and now here I am basically reciting the girl's lesson plan.

"Ditching. Mrs Lamuerte can survive without me in it."

That was true. But her light would be missed in the classroom. What did I care? This was her six hundredth and fifty-fourth time she was skipping Spanish to come and sit with me on the school steps. Boredom at its finest.

"I think Spanish would have been more interesting than me though."

"I don't know about that. I think you have your merits."

I do as well. Just the wrong ones that people lust for without really knowing how they would live with.

I hate this conversation in particular. It yields no new information at all since the first time I had it after my "death". Nothing ever varies significantly. Right now, the path before us is a simple one consisting of three options; she either asks me to go with her to the mall where she tells me she likes me and we kiss, pretends not to like me until I'm asked out by another girl at lunch and I see her leaving school crying, or she laughs at my awkward jokes and we go back to class, having no change to this relationship of ours.

Of course, she doesn't always come up to me here every time I come to school, but I'm tired of this. I just wish something new I have never seen before happened for once in my boring existence.

"Lola'sbeen staring at you for a long time now."