"What if we came to this reality, born into the role reserved for us in this bizarre cycle of it all, with a different expectation of this reality. What if somewhere deep down our instinct is screaming at us that this reality has somehow corrupted itself and therefore, we're doomed to behold the travesty of its aftermath only for it to be logged away somewhere in the great archive of Time.
That we are the anomaly created by time in a natural effort to restore itself to a balance in which it will be able to sustain itself rather than existing in a reality saturated with the very essence of decay. That part of the reason we are still here in this world that fills us with nothing but a deep sorrow for what it all could be if only there was still an option for it to be, is because it stirs that part in us.
We, somewhere deep inside of us, remember what should have been and are thus uniquely qualified to behold the full scope of this, of this perversion, as we witness its death throes. What if we're just here to live, feel, discover and watch this reality destroy itself so it can make place for a corrected version? One that would not succumb to the corruption that nearly killed it the last cycle around. What if existence is nothing but a revolving door, falling from one version of reality into another? What if, in the grand scheme of it all, that is all we are?
And what if all that is the essence of me is tired and weary of all its journeys and I desperately wish for it to cease, for me to stop being in existence altogether?" She mused. "What if I'm tired of trying to fight that which inevitably comes anyway? I've grown weary of playing chess with this reality in a futile attempt to undo all that got corrupted. This timeline might well be beyond reverting to a healthier, viable state and I don't feel like I can carry anymore of that heartache that it inevitably brings. Or imagine this... What if it's our existence that keeps the rot in this timeline, forever corrupting it and leaving us unable to break this hellish cycle, because we're it's cause.
That all this suffering is caused because we're flawed and selfish creatures and are saving those we love from destruction as time finally strikes to correct itself? That we're the ones that prolonged all their agony because in the end, right here and in this reality, we're still sentimental fools incapable of sacrificing what we hold dear. What if we're selfish and cruel because we blinded ourselves looking at the beautiful potential it all still seems to promise and wish to see it a little longer?" She scoffed at her inner thoughts. "What if we've become the corruption of this reality and that's why we're forever disqualified and barred from ever fully being part of this world? Trapped in an endless cycle of punishment until we give in and resign to having made an error in judgment. That sometimes the best course of action is to do nothing at all." The voice was barely a whisper, almost hushed as though it was speaking of great secrets not meant to be heard by human ears.
"You know this to be irrefutable fact. You know like no other what our choices and selfishness have wrought. How we've twisted this reality into a perversion of existence. What I fail to understand is why it is upsetting you right now." He gently chided her, waiting for her to reach the point where she could tell him what was upsetting enough for him to find this shadow of the person he knew. "I.... I just need it to stop. Why can't it stop? Why can't I stop it or slow it down? It won't slow down, no matter what I try. I need it to stop." She gasped and panted, the intensity of her plight stealing her breath away.
He understood every painful word. He knew that she didn't mean the cycle that she had referred to before but was referring to the pace of her mind. It wouldn't let her be, constantly racing, perpetually mulling over everything she knew and all the new information she had discovered in the meantime. Her mind was like his in that regard, always going, never off, never a moment's peace. He knew that even when she slept, she was aware of it and could steer her dreams to work out the things her waking mind wouldn't let her.
He also knew the dire side effects this could have at such times as when she'd discovered something new or had run into a flaw in her patterns that she wanted to adjust. He knew all too well the trap she'd gotten ensnared in. It had been his constant state for years until he had found the one thing that could make it stop or slow it down enough to be able to be enough in the present to remember the basics a human body requires to keep functioning.
She had reached a point where it had to be interrupted by an outside force or she would have to wait until her body burned itself up and would betray her. Her mind had worked itself up in a feverish crescendo and it wouldn't stop until it had it all perfectly sussed out, perfected and molded into a web of actionable data.