SCP-4XXX - Past Tense
rating: 0+x

Panoramic view of SCP-XXXX.

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures:


Futile Search

We protect ourselves against the changing of time. We shield ourselves from the banality of real life, ever catching up to us, by creating stories. Creating stories and attaching them to places. Nostalgia. Memories. It's a defense mechanism against the terror of losing yourself to the world. It's a refusal to face the truth of the present.

Imagine our existences as a kind of travel. Down some dusty road, in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of some beautiful, haunting landscape. Caught up in the moment. There's a fleeting feeling, a sense of security. Freedom. Meaning. You thought you saw it somewhere in the mountains. Drifting in the desert sands. Hiding in the curve of the horizon. For a moment, everything makes sense. But you leave it behind, as you always do. You can't stop moving. You can't wait. It's out of your control.

Everything's changing now. And you wish you could find that place again. It looks the same, but you never find that moment again. All you have is some kind of memory; the rest is like a piece of your soul that was stolen away.

Maybe that piece is somewhere scattered all over the landscape, in the mountains, in the desert sands, in the horizon. It becomes a part of that place. And so you're anchored there forever, even as you keep moving. A rope keeps getting tighter and tighter, pulling you back to that moment. To that life.

The people, places, worlds that you inextricably linked as you, as your home, as your life, drift from you. You keep on driving on down to infinity. And eventually, those people and places are no longer you - they're something totally alien. You pick up new people and places and turn them into you, and leave them behind again. Like a trail of dead worlds following in your wake. When you glance back, you don't recognize them anymore. No matter how much you try. They're nothing.

So instead: fantasy stories. Fantasy memories! Coping mechanisms to make sense of the constant ego death that is life. Focus on a moment. Deny that it ever ended. As your world comes crashing down, be somewhere else in the past—and don't blink; if you do, you might snap out of it.

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