By Mike Johnson
As I sit here, bathed in quiet, amber lamplight, I’m gobsmacked by a startling realization.
I am not me.
Sixty-seven years of labor, experience and thought has been reduced to memories in my head.
All of it.
It’s all vapor.
Oh, I'm surrounded by manifested physical residue, but the essence of me, is not me at all.
Everything that came before is just memories of some role I played.
I am no longer that role.
I am free.
I am between roles.
I am the script writer.
I am void.
Pure consciousness.
Until I select and write the next role.
The role may last an instant or a day or a year or a lifetime.
“My role” is just a group of thoughts I keep thinking.
Stop the thoughts and I’m free of the role.
My entire life, up until this moment, is nothing more than a thumb drive of memories in my pocket.
A realistic dream.
Vapor.
It never was me at all.
###
More:
###
Back to Mike's Warm, Wealthy Wisdoms
Back to Mike's Website, WorldsBestWriter.com