This trope describes a certain family member of mine to a T. Every other week he would have some great religious, psychological, or philosophical revelation... then he'd completely forget about his HeelFaceTurn and go back to treating everyone around him like crap within a few days, sometimes within hours. The weird thing was, he was completely sincere, but so mentally unstable that he just couldn't hold to any change for very long. Eventually, his long-suffering family came to their senses, BewareTheNiceOnes came into play, and the man currently has no real relationships at all.

Averted (sorta) by this troper's youth minister. He and a friend tried hacksawing a television to get the glass on it for a fish tank. This was a bad idea. He suddenly had a thought that if they sawed it, it would explode. But they still wanted to do it. The compromise? They did it outside. But he didn't die, so that's a good thing.

This troper in spades. For a while, I decided I'd be much more dedicated and nice, and just generally better in all aspects of life. Fast forward three months; I've wasted my entire morning on TV Tropes and am now editing my Troper Tale onto this page. Not much more needs to be said.

This troper. Completely.

This troper...kind of. When I was ten years old, my grandfather died. So I and the family headed off to northern California where the open casket funeral would be held. Mind you, this wasn't my first funeral. So since news of his death, to the time of the funeral I felt nothing. When it was time, we headed to the funeral. I could see the body only vaguely. My 2 cousins/friends saw the body first. I remember my slightly older cousin making a comment on our grandfather's wax like appearance. I went up to the casket when it was my turn, peered in and experienced a moment of intense emotion in which I had a literal FlashBack to a time when I was five years old. I along with my family: mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, uncle, aunt, and two previously mentioned cousins, were in my grandparent's house. The memory was in surprising detail; everything in the room was accounted for and it is probably, to date, the clearest memory I have ever experienced. Me and my cousins were on the floor playing with their tinker toys, one of which involved a Tyrannosaurus Rex head of which I was quite fond of, and the adults were on the couch. The adults were probably talking, but at that moment I am fairly certain they had reached a break in the conversation and were just watching us. My grandfather spoke, words which somehow alluded me, unfortunately the only part of the memory I cannot remember - what he said. It was possibly the first, but definitely the last time my grandfather spoke clearly, and the ''only'' time I ever truly heard him. He developed health problems throughout the time I knew him, namely, Parkinson's Disease. Ironically I can never remember what he said. Then I was shocked back to reality, the flashback only lasted a few seconds. But in those few seconds my mind was completely and involuntarily implanted in the memory, I couldn't feel, see, hear, or smell anything in the real world. All of my senses were devoted to the memory. When I came back to reality I cried immediately; a completely involuntary action. I was sobbing. I can clearly remember asking, almost accusing, my slightly older cousin "why aren't you crying?". He remembers too, as he revealed to me at our grandmother's funeral one year ago. I didn't at the time understand why I was crying. That made me start freaking out. I remember, for one thing, not wanting to get a stuffy nose. Eventually, I calmed down and seemed to ignore the experience all together, like nothing had happened, but I was young and I couldn't properly make sense of it. I remember after the funeral when we went outside into the sun, I had a different perspective of the world, like I suddenly understood something that people generally don't want to know and that made the world through my eyes change dramatically. That event acted as a catalyst for a depression that I was simply to young and immature to handle; 10 - 11 years old. I remember it as a mixture of intense unfiltered despair and tons of {{Wangst}} of which I am not proud of. In another cruel twist, at the funeral that I had previously been to at age 7 was my grandmother on my dad's side, I never cried, because I knew her well and shared my affection with her, starkly contrasting the relationship with my grandfather, teaching me, the hard way, to never take anything for granted. Eventually I got over the depression and went through a new depression 3 years later, except that time I could handle it and worked through the issues. That one I consider to be more painful than the prior one, but also a much better experience. The bout of depression was inevitable ever since I developed my young scientifically oriented mind, stemming from my juvenile belief that adults know everything and I'll learn everything from my preschool years, matched with an inherent talent in reading. What is particularly strange is that these instances of mental ailment seem to all stem from a smaller ignored epiphany when I was quite young:

I can remember the first time I ever thought about death. When I was four years old, and playing in preschool, I had my first thought of death. I conjured up the image of a young male soldier - brunette, brown eyes, Caucasian - being shot (in the chest) in battle complete with blood. I conjured up three other male soldiers on his right when the shot happened, but they are of little significance. The wounded soldier died immediately. My mind then placed him in "nothing", but actually just placed him floating (in a sort of cruel, menacing manner) against a background of black, that I always associated with a black hole, although I did know what a black hole truly was. My mind was just making sense of his cessation of conscientiousness. I then thought about me and ''if'' I would die. I figured that I would just live forever by not putting myself in harms way. I would become a crippled old lady in a wooden rocking chair(I pictured myself in a wooden rocking chair). A cruel fate, but I figured "hey, at least I'll be alive". I thought that as long as you don't get shot, you live forever. I nearly immediately realized the holes in the idea that I conjured up, but I figured that I would learn about it when I got older (which in turn made me gullible - accepting the first idea I was presented with which caused me trouble when I started thinking about other possibilities). I often figured I would learn about it later, when presented with ideas that I couldn't quite understand.

This troper was once eating chicken when he suddenly looked down at what was on his plate and said to himself, "Whoa. I'm actually eating what ''used to be a living being''." He shrugged and continued eating.

This troper once did that while eating a hamburger. Wouldn't touch hamburgers for about a week, but then got over it. What have I done?! Surely I must change, I can't just keep on... aw screw it, lets just keep doing what we were doing.