The world around me was so hot and large and I was nothing more than a speck.
It was my first time living, like everyone else. But it was not my last. I did not live long as a bacterium, and I did not learn much but what it is like to live. Only barely, though.
My next life began as quickly as the last one had ended, and I could see. Perhaps it wasn't my second exactly, but my memory is uncertain and hazy when I go that far.
For sure though, it was my first time experiencing the world visually. I did not live long as a shrimp, and I did not learn much but what it is like to see.
Many of my lives after were short and fruitless, and as I aimlessly wandered through the endless void I'd learn was called the 'ocean,' I tried only to learn.
Time and time again I witnessed my own gruesome death, and I squirmed in the jaws of the large predators and flapped desperately, because no matter how many times it had already happened, I did not want to die.
My next life I was big and strong, and I ran my tongue along my sharp teeth. I was the one doing the hunting now, and I dined on endless schools of fish until I was full.
It was my first time being full. I lived a long while as a shark, and I learned much, especially what it felt to be satisfied. Only in hunger though.
It was no longer a surprise when I awoke in my next life, I had grown used to this endless cycle, despite my primitive and simple brain. What did surprise me, though, was the outside of the egg I clawed out of.
I was not greeted by the familiar wet chill of the only void I'd known. No, what met me outside my egg was a warm, dry, and strange place.
I had to once again learn how to maneuver my world, how to manipulate the new appendages I'd been given. I did not live long as a lizard, but I learned many things about the greater world.
In my next life, I was fast and warm. The world no longer felt so cold, and I experienced the love of a mother for the first time. My mother helped me and my siblings grow strong, she did not abandon us. And when I grew, I set out on my own.
I learned too much in this life, and the familial bonds I'd made would've been the greatest thing in the world if I hadn't also learned of them.
I saw a strange structure, something unlike anything I'd ever seen in all my lives. I approached it warily, because something unfamiliar was something dangerous. I crept inside the structure, and smelled something delicious waft through the air.
I started to dine on a food, an indescribably delicious food, the most spectacular thing I'd ever tasted. I looked up, and above me was a giant. A monkey... had it created the structure? It quickly grabbed me up and shooed me away.
I would occasionally run into the monkeys throughout that life, and every time I was shooed away. But they'd already captured my simple mind.
I lived many more lives and learned many more things, carrying them over to the next. My simplistic brain could not store all I needed, and so I forgot mostly everything. But the small experiences I gained over and over again piled up, waiting to be used.
I lived long, unlike the other mice, I fought hard, unlike the other deer, I hoarded unlike the other rabbits. In every life, I found myself running into the monkeys who ruled those lands.
And finally, in my next life, I was surrounded by them. I was particularly intelligent in this life, and I felt my tail wag as I observed my surroundings.
I was paraded around a large gathering of the monkeys, and I was placed on a throne of gold.
I sprawled out on my throne. A servant hovered above me, dropping into my mouth fruits and meats, gold and yarn as offerings.
All throughout the day, men and women and children came to visit and pay their respects. It was a good life I lived, one of worship and regality.
I didn't know why I was treated in such a way, especially when I saw the street dwellers who looked identical to me scavenging for food while I lived in luxury.
I was certainly their deity, not that I knew what a deity was at the time. I just spent my time grooming myself and lazing around. They did magic to entertain me, and bent backwards to please me.
I never grasped the language, for I was only a dumb animal. As I expected, I did not live forever. It wasn't more than four years before the city was sieged, and I, an idol of a more 'barbaric' people, was killed.
I could only barely grasp the concept of regret by then. Yet, I was filled with it, when once again I was reborn into a new body, this time back in the harsh wilderness of the animal kingdom.
I yearned to feel the sand beneath my feet, not because of the warmth or the scenery, but the comfort.
I suppose it was then, from that regret, that sprouted the idea of becoming one of those monkeys, instead. If I could become one of them, and live as I did, as a king once again, perhaps I could finally end this cycle.
I was yet to find anything more impressive and magical than those monkeys in all my lives, after all.
I hadn't realized it, but I'd been growing increasingly intelligent with each life. Was it divine karma? Was I climbing the rungs of a spiritual ladder?
I cannot and couldn't have told you. After all, I was only a dumb animal. But I was certainly less dumb than before.
By the next life, I had long since lost the capacity for pain. It was a mental evolution; I knew it for sure since my brothers and sisters still shrieked at my bites.
Despite my unfeelingness, I still cried in the face of death. I did not learn much but my fear of death's oppressive hold on me.
One last time, I was staring into the sky, bleeding out. I was a great and intelligent bird, I learned the freedom of flight in that life.
That life was so incredible that I nearly forgot my longing, of course the harsh reality of life was shoved back down my throat as I died on the jungle floor.
Because, I was yet to see a monkey die. I squawked into the sky, and it was my own primitive attempt at speech. Only a mimicry of what I'd heard before.
"G... g-god!"
I did not know what this word meant, but it was the one I'd heard the most from the monkeys. In times of anger, sadness, happiness, fear, it was what they said. What could it mean?
"God! God! God!" I squawked in a pathetic attempt to be 'human'.
I opened my eyes and saw two monkeys staring down at me. I felt my heart start to race, and I wiggled my feet.
I wagged my... no, of course, I had no tail. I had no tail, and my hands were bare but warm. Tears welled in my eyes, and I started to cry.
My first moments as a human were incredibly clear, the clearest my mind had ever been. Despite my infantile mind, I was still infinitely more intelligent than before. It was as if a veil had been lifted.
"He has your eyes, doesn't he?"
"How would I know? We both have brown eyes, don't we?"
"My eyes have bits of green; can't you tell? He's got your dark, manly eyes."
"Manly? Only a few days ago you compared my eyes to a snake's."
"Snakes can be manly..."
The monkeys above me were my parents. 'Monkeys'? No, they're humans. I'm human, not monkey.
But quickly I learned that human life was not as great as I'd imagined.
Perhaps it was kept out of my sight, or I'd been too simple to understand it, but these humans did not live like kings. Or, I certainly didn't.
Very early on, before I could even speak, I was taught religion by my parents. It left a very large impact on me, and though I can't call myself religious, I can certainly say that without those teachings, I would be a different human than I am now.
Though, sometimes I wondered how my parents could teach me of love and respect when they didn't follow it themselves…
By the age of nine, my father returned home intoxicated from liquor and beat on my mother. I suppose I should've hated him; he beat on my mother. But this was the first life that I could not bring myself to love my mother.
It pained me, far worse than the physical pains I'd long outgrown. She did not care for me as my mothers had before. She beat on me for misbehaving, even worse than my father beat on her.
By the age of ten, I ran away from home. I thought it'd be simple enough, just like the many times I'd lived before. But being human was so complicated. It wasn't just my mother who scorned me, but nearly everyone that came to know me.
I would spend many nights alone and afraid, crying out for anyone. This life was not unknown to me, so why did it feel so sorry? It was because of my new, human mind.
I became what they called a 'feral boy'. I walked the streets with no shoes, and I stole for food. My clothes were dirty, and my hair was long.
I'd gotten into trouble many a time for harming townsfolk's animals, and many kind ladies tried to reeducate me. But what was so different between a dog and a lamb? What use is 'mathematic'? 'Literture'? I couldn't make sense of it, so I threw out education all together.
Of course, even if you try your hardest, this world doesn't let you refuse to 'learn'. In fact, it seemed to force feed me information.
Etiquette was simply what I had to do to avoid getting beaten.
Math was simply what I had to do to get enough food for the day.
Literature was simply what I had to learn to understand the words people called me.
I wondered if I died, would I return to nature? I was not depressed, but out of place. I did not wish to die, but I had not nearly enough time to acclimate to this new reality.
By the age of twelve, I had joined a small gang of boys around my age and likeness. We were all 'feral' (though I was the most so). We ran around the streets causing chaos and mischief, and I admit, it was the first time I'd had fun in my life.
Of course, some nights I longed for my parents, despite how they treated me. I longed for the comfort of a warm home to return to. But I accepted that I was a 'feral boy'.
I became famous among the boys. I wasn't strong, or big. In fact, I was quite small, malnourished and weak. But I had never lost a fight.
My teeth and nails were sharp, and my tactics suited my title as 'feral'. Most terrifying of all, I didn't flinch from any amount of pain. If anything stuck with me the most from my previous lives, it was the desire for strength.
Acquiring strength was the simplest form of self-preservation. As much as the human world had hurt me, I did not plan on dying any time soon. And so, I had to gain strength.
This had become the new status quo. My new life. By this time, I'd lived longer as a human than I'd lived as any other creature. Slowly, my memories of all the lives previous dulled, and I was truly human.
I did not forget my true nature, but it did sunk deeper into my subconscious. Perhaps it was a necessary step before I could start living 'right'.
I still fought the local dogs, though. You can't expect an animal to throw away their instincts, can you?