Messages from the Cloud

I realize I might not be on a cloud, but that’s as far as my imagination takes me. I’m not even sure if I can see or hear you, but that’s what I’m telling myself. That’s the only way I could accept my fate. I didn’t want it. I promise you. I really just felt tired. Is that so bad?

I wonder if in my previous lives I was a lounger. Someone who sat back eating grapes one day and olives on the other, or was I worked to death with never any rest?

I thought we were supposed to learn something in our next lives, but I can’t see past now. So, I don’t know if I was or if I’m supposed to be. And I can’t see before. Was my submission ticket smudged? Did they send me the wrong lifespan? Did the messenger misunderstand my need for a nap and a personal organizer?

Will I ever reach enlightenment? I don’t recall, but when I left, my enlightenment light bulb didn’t light up. So maybe I didn’t, but maybe I will.

If I get another ticket, will I stop watching and protecting you? It’s not my choice. They pretend to be kind. But how kind is it to steal a person from their loved ones? I wonder if I can be a detective here. Is there any autonomy? Do I have any say?

I think people like to tell stories, but these stories really skewed my view. It isn’t like that at all. Not at all. I wonder if I can speak to Cupid. Can I shoot a message down to you? “Eat your leafy green vegetables and get enough protein! Make sure you meditate, stretch. Keep your muscles and body strong—but don’t go to an extreme. Watch out for scammers and save your money, but also spend money on adventure. Just don’t waste it!”

I wish I knew if money could even translate up here. I guess not, but does anyone have any say about any of this? I feel like I’m in the industrial revolution working in a line. Really? I never wanted this. It’s boring as fuck.