try dancing in my shoes

“So to him, time wouldn’t move like it do for us. Waiting had another meaning. Perhaps he didn’t wait at all. Imagine time not as a line rolled up, say like a fishing line being rolled up on a reel. As we see it now, you are born and some huge sea monster starts pulling your line. You are a little plastic bead on that line and all you can do is watch that monster swim further and further away until you are out of line. That’s it, no more time for you. You fall into a black lake of nothingness and the monster is long gone. But lets say it doesn’t have to be like that. Maybe the line isn’t moving at all. Maybe its all floating around in the lake and you can jump from one point to another. That way you can experience things over and over. While I wait for the future, he might already be there, enjoying our time together. And I - my consciousness - is stuck here, in this present of constant waiting. Perhaps I have to go through the whole line one round to co-create all the events on my line, to spice them up with my inputs. To make them mine in a sense. In the future he would have me acting and reacting, but it would be a me that he based on memories of me. It couldn’t be the me that will eventually be there, because she will have other things collected in her database. She will have other experiences and more information than the past me that he is basing his image of me on. So the person he is hanging out with in the future, is still the past me. Perhaps he will like her better. Competing with your past self is such a drag. I know exactly how I was thinking, and I know exactly how much trouble it got me in to. I can understand that it was fascinating to watch from a distance, but try to come a bit closer, buddy. Go ahead and try dancing in my shoes.” I chuckled and took a sip from my beer. Feeling a bit dizzy focusing my attention on the lable on the bottle somehow seemed to stabalize things. I suddenly got very tired.
"I'm sorry, I got too excited again. Yours truely, the armchair philosopher" She raised her glass and her eyebrows in a ironic salutation. I shook my head and smiled. "Barstool philosopher in this case actually" we laughed and her cheerfulness blew my troubles right out the entrance where some smart looking guys just walked in. She didnt even glance at them.