Memories are fickle. The waking mind more so. I feel as if I woke from a dream, and the words written in this journal are not my own. One could easily argue that they are not, and that I am not the man I was prior to ascension. It was such a life altering event, and one that escapes me. It is not remembered, not even in dreams. At least, not yet remembered.
It is strange to think that was my choice. Granted, I was told that my body was dying, however, it is still strange. Then again, considering the grace I was given after making said choice; it makes perfect sense. The power to create and destroy a whole galaxy was at my proverbial fingertips, and yet I became powerless in my ethereal state. It was a beautiful contradiction, one Jack would never, or rather, would choose to never understand.
Am I Daniel, or am I Aaron? The latter seems more fitting. Living in a tent in a world without these amenities seems to fit me better. That year spent on Abydos was the happiest of my life. Sadly, that is not saying much. Honestly, I don't remember. This is mere speculation based on my previous entries. That is what I do: Speculate on the past, and make assumptions, apparently correct assumptions, on the meaning of written history, mythology, and the line that connects the two.
One thing strikes me. I am not sure if it is a memory or message left by Oma:
"The true nature of a man is decided in the battle between his conscious mind and the desires of the subconscious."
Here is to hoping that my subconscious mind remained the same, that I am the man SG-1 needs me to be, and that my coming back was not a waste.