Diary of a Solipsist, pt.2

As I related before, I am twenty-one according to human standards.
People took note of my existence in the human point of 1989 as they have on many other instances. From that point, they took pleasure in following my growth up to another point when many had died of the world's wear and tear, or their age. At this point I take my leave, and those still alive continue on to eventually die, perhaps wondering about me before their end. Afterward, I reappear in the world in some fashion.
I have thus used two interesting words: before and after. There is a "before" and an "after," very rarely a "now." I find it difficult to think about the now without it quickly passing into before; and difficult to notice when an after passes through the now. In any case it's futile for me since there is so much time for me to give attention. If I spent all my time focusing on time, my preoccupation would draw attention and give me away, assuming the focus is so strong I end up motionlessly absorbed in it.
In truth, I don't take human time seriously; because I am in this form, in human company, I fall into the time they create. (Humans are always seeking some order, some way to catalog things neatly, like that.) In fact, I'm unable to keep track of all the time I've experienced. The days flow quickly or slowly, just as much as the seconds of a single day for some people. A year to me is as a day, in memory. After an accumulation of years comparable to the human lifespan - I forget.
I awaken - beginning a new set of years. I believe this is to keep the overwhelming extent of time from flooding my mind: forgetting to keep things simple. Occasionally I wish I could remember all my experiences, or at least find the words put down on page, if any.