Sorry about that prologue, I really hate leaving things off on bad notes and I feel like I left you with a sour taste in your mouth.  That’s on me, my bad.  You really have to understand though, when you’ve lived the same thing over, and over, and over again you tend to become a creature of habit- one that hates when his habit is interrupted.  It also doesn’t help that the idiot who is writing my story is bad at keeping time tables, but then again who am I to judge?  

I’ve been around for literally billions of years. Every single life cycle I experienced began and ended with relatively similar circumstances.  No matter what though, nothing has ever changed this much.  Gonna be totally honest, it made me scared, and I took that out on you.  Once again- very sorry.   

But where was I… Oh that’s right-  The life that literally everything changed! You know that feeling when you see someone through a window at a coffee shop, and you swear to God that you know that person- only for them to look up from their phone, stare directly into your soul, and you realize “Oh fuck that’s not them.”  

Imagine the sheer panic.  

Now multiply it by three.   

So, my ability to speak wasn’t too good when I was born, which meant that I could only watch as the doctors tried to resuscitate my mother- to no avail.   The umbilical cord was severed, and I was now being held by the masculine arms of the male nurse in the back of the room. 

My father was totally freaking out, it was really a sight to behold- never quite seen him like that.  Tears and screaming- the whole nine yards. 

I’m sure all of you are ready to hate on me for being so emotionless about my mother’s passing, but you all need to realize something.  I’ve seen this over a billion times. Every time sucks, but if you know that something is coming it makes no sense to destroy myself over it.  It's not like I’m not going to see her again, if I was really torn up about it I could always just cut my losses and move on with the next life. 

Although even if I decided to go that route, being born is super painful, so I’d like to avoid that if anything.   

So I waited, and watched.  This life was normal- with the exception of my mother’s death in the beginning this life was pretty much the same.  My father picked up drinking when I was really young, and he would often come home slurring his words- more often than not blaming me for my mother’s death.  Yet I knew this wasn’t the case.  I’ve lived over a billion times at this point and every time, my mother was fine- which any intelligent man would deduce that as the common denominator.  And now I’m not saying I’m Sir Isaac Newton- but if it smells, looks, feels, and tastes like shit- more often than not, it's shit.  

But for real there was something really wrong with this, and for whatever reason, I couldn’t seem to figure out just what it was so I decided that biding my time was the best option. From living out my life normally to moving onto the next, to see just what happens.    Yet once again, my mother died at birth- from a different complication this time, but I suppose the way you get somewhere doesn’t really matter as long as you arrive, no?  

Same response from my father, which got me thinking- why is it that everything else stays the same when only certain things change?  For example my mother dying, and my father becoming a drunk.  I attempted to play around with the outcomes for a few lives and see, but no matter what I did, everything was the same.  Which means that there was another force at work- but just what it was, or is, eludes me still.  

My spider tingle was sensing some bullshitery- outside the traditional plot points being exploited by the toolbag writing this story, and I needed to come to the bottom of this, because while I had gotten used to my way of life, which brings me to the situation right now.   

I’m currently in bed with Mel (nice) internally monologuing to all of you about my predicament- and I’m actually no closer to figuring it out.   

“J?” the red hair of Mel shifted in my peripherals- interrupting my conversation (not cool).  I glanced down for a moment and watched her shift to be on top of me- her freckled nose pushing forward as she rested her jaw against my bare chest.  

See, the thing about Mel is that she is way too hot for most people here.   Not looks wise- which is true as well- but I mean she’s literally hot as shit.  Her body temperature is something like three hundred degrees celsius, most guys had their dicks fried by her body fluids which meant that she was… depraved.  When you can’t sleep with someone for your entire life, at some point a switch flicks and you turn into a nympho, and while I wasn’t able to sleep with her until my fiftieth life or so, the second my body evolved enough to withstand her heat we got it onnnnn.    Like rabbits I shit you not.  

But I digress. (Just a brotha bragging- leave me alone and let me have this) 

“What’s up?”   I made eye contact with her, and for a few moments she observed my features- her eyes flicking quickly around my face.  

“I don’t know how else to say this, but I want a divorce.”  

What. The. Fuck.    

Let's take inventory here.  My mother is dead.  My father is well on his way there, and Mel wants a divorce.   Is someone fucking with me?  

You! Yeah you.  You think you’re slick?  Tryna punk me?  Well mama ain’t raise no bitch- or well, technically she didn’t raise me at all; but, you know what- fuck you!

Why is it that the second I understand just what my situation is, everything I care about falls apart?  Is it this divine retribution from the Author?  Did I ever have any power over my fate?  Or is everything bullshit?