[ WP ] All my life I had been fascinated with the memories I can recall that were n't my own .

I should go to sleep, I should've gone off to the world of dreams 
 hours ago. Yet I still stay awake. Thinking. Remembering. 
 
 Most of these memories are n't mine. Hell, most of them are n't even 
 from the present. I remember through the eyes of a Confederate 
 soldier taking his last breaths, I see through the eyes of a newborn 
 opening theirs for the first time. I see things I have no business 
 seeing, and I know things that I should n't worry about. 
 
 The kids at school ask me why I'm so quiet. Why I seem so distant. 
 Those who are close to me tell me how mature I am for my age. How 
 could I not be, when I've lived infinitely more life than they ever 
 could? When, sometimes, I can see into their past through the eyes 
 of them, or their families? 
 
 I roll over in my bed, my eyes searching the darkness, seeing 
 nothing. Then I close them, and memory bursts behind my eyelids. I 
 live in fear of the day when I might see something truly terrible. 
 I fear the day I might see my death. 
 
 I ca n't stop remembering. 
 
 A tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe away the tear of a crying woman. 
 My wife looks at me with hate. A family that I do n't recognize is 
 gathered around me in a hospital, but it is n't me. 
 
 I see a broken old man in the mirror. I am aware then and now that I 
 am looking through my eyes. Neither of me is surprised. I feel 
 myself shed another tear. 
 
 I wipe away the tear of a crying woman...
