Currently Roswell: Season 2 By Jason Behr see related

These feelings come as the residue of a dream... though I'm now awake, they lie in a part of my consciousness, gazing out at me -- through me -- with their harlequin eyes. Self-examining, other-examining, neither intimate nor remote, they evade entanglements with rational questions and answers. Perhaps they are influenced by the things I have been watching, by a pattern of clarity-confusion that oft repeats when I visit home, by the recent reemergence of people I used to love... but they also contain a seeming consciousness unto themselves, independent of me, my thoughts, or my desires.

Love... the appropriate metaphors are not what come, but rather: love is a nutcracker, and you're a nut to be in it. Like someone tied to the tracks, you've struggled, lost, grieved, and accepted; now, you relax your muscles and watch with disinterest the train as it comes. Was this how it was meant to be? I have lived the analogies multiple times, died on the tracks to wake up in a traincar. Who does it please that it should be so? 

In part, I envy those who have loved once, those who have never died and seen themselves come back just a little different. I don't believe in literal reincarnation, like dying and coming back as a cow, but at times it feels as though I am a reincarnation of my former selves; the eyes looking out on the landscape are not the same as those into which you, or he, looked years ago. And so, I have come to understand, as useless as it is to compare dissimilar objects in this, it's more so for dissimilar people.

But I fell in love again; I broke myself again and lost a few of the pieces; I came a little more awake. I don't know how long or how many times the cycle goes. The train moves on, and though I fear it may derail or crash altogether, crushing me or sending me maimed into the next, I keep riding it. I want to see where it goes. How it all ends.