Prelude:

     It's very difficult to believe in concepts like "time" and "salvation" when there is no 'self' to apply them to.
     There sometimes are moments of clarity. Sometimes..
     They have become less frequent as the blood that was given me mixes in with my own.
     And so I write... I write because it helps me to pick out the memories that are my own. When I remember one thing, and if it is a good day, I can remember the things that happened with it.
     But these are never linear stories. I can't, yet.
     I was trying to explain how the blood got inside of me. It was a transfusion, I know that now.
     And my brain took the... blood is the life... right? Blood is memories.. memories are life. We think, therefore we remember. The memories of countless others, pumping into my brain and causing me to get lost.
     I was wrong to take human blood.