I have decided to take up writing something of my life, as I have done many times before. The writings of the past have been lost, at least I cannot find them; turned yellow then brown as the pages tensed and shattered, words losing track of their rightful place. Those same words wander away in a state of fugue and find themselves living with other beings, or perhaps collected by me to be placed back on the page, to rewrite myself.
My name is Nathaniel, at least that's what humans call me. I find it hard to place much emphasis on the name because of all the variations that come from it: "nicknames." On top of this, humans can share the same name and rely on a "last" name to individualize themselves. However, like first names, last names can be shared by multiple humans. The importance placed on names may stem from the idea that qualities constitute something. Cups aren't cups, they are a material in a certain form- they are shiny, sleek, dull, heat-resistant, chipped, and so on. Similarly, attached to names are honor, trust, and other aspects of the person; a while ago people would fight to regain the honor of their or their family's name. Yet how can importance be placed on names when said names are given seemingly at random. Probability determines not just how many people will share first names and last names, but how many will share the exact same name. In such cases, more than a name is needed to tell people apart; other characteristics such as age are used.
According to human time, I am currently twenty-one years old. Of course, I'm much older than this, just as some people are referred to as "old soul" and whose eyes are engraved with many rings from a young age. But I will leave off for now and pick up with the strangeness of human time.
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