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by C.R.M. Nilsson

Life, the world, the universe Ė it is all made up of circles. Everything goes around without a beginning and an end. Life transcends into death that transcends into new life and the world keeps powered by previous life. Thereís not an infinite amount of raw material so what there is will have to be used again.

So it would not be so far-fetched to consider that it might be the same case with souls. Or maybe itís just I, Alexander Makem, who has fucked things up so badly that I have to repeat it over and over again. The times change, but my punishment remains the same. And everything is going through circles, no beginning or end in sight.

A long, long time ago I befriended another boy. We became brothers in everything but blood and we would have died for each other. In fact, he did die for me. Only it wasnít for reasons that he believed. He believed he was dying to save me when in fact I had betrayed him. He thought that he was keeping me safe by dying without uttering my name. When I had already given up his name and been forced to watch him die.

I was executed soon there after. But since then Iíve been born over and over again. At first I was confused and didnít realise what was happening. But when it had happened a few times, I tried to prevent his death. And I always fail. In our last incarnation, I caused his death. I was driving drunk and hit a lorryÖ I survived. He died. Again.

I killed myself a couple of weeks later and the dance started all over.

Since I have my memories right now, I can assume that we are going to be pushed together soon. Thatís why Iím walking through a crowded area, even though I hate crowds. My eyes idly pursue the stores and Iím thinking of entering a music store, when I run into somebody. Before I know it, this person and I are crashing into the ground in a sprawl of limbs. My face flushes hotly and I hurriedly push back and off the person with a murmured apology.

It turns into a curse into my head. Because of course it would be him. I sit there, staring dumbly at him, before he rises. He offers me a hand up and I mumble a thanks. Thereís only one thought going through my mind: maybe this time around I wonít screw this up.

He never remembers. But there is something that links us together. Iíve never had any troubles gaining his friendship. Even this time it seems like weíre hitting it off. The way he talks and gestures are achingly familiar. He was my dearest friend and I betrayed him.

Weíre parting ways after exchanging phone numbers and a promise of meeting up at a party, when it strikes me. In all our past lives and meetings Iíve got near him. Weíve become friends again. And every time I cause his death in a way. I freeze. Maybe thatís the problem. Maybe I have to let him go for this nightmare to end. For this circle to be broken.

My feet wander without my frozen mindís orders and soon Iím standing by the river. I look blankly at it before pulling out my cell-phone. I look at it and consider it. My arm draws back and Iím throwing it out into the river. Severing the link between us. Breaking the circle.

And if my eyes are tearing up just a little, do you blame me?


Copyright C.R.M. Nilsson 2010

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