What do you mean story and past lives?
If I had to describe my past life, it'd be a largely blank canvas(made with materials that came off the back of someone else and put them out) with a few asymmetrical lines drawn across it. Despite the inherit lack of symmetry and imperfection, they are only going in one place, unimpeded -- leaking off until they eventually reach the end of the canvas and dribble harmlessly on the floor, where it finally dries up leaving an unnoticeable mess for whoever walks over it. You can't even call it artistic expression, or improv art, since it's just a few lines. This about sums up my life. Not exactly profound or masturbatory prose material, but this is the only thing I thought of when I thought about my life up until this point.
You guys can feel free to mark up my canvas if you want.