500 words comp story

I woke up in someone else’s body-my body-my new body. Obviously I didn’t know that at the time. I’m a newborn baby. I can’t remember who I was before, never will. That’s just the way. The second you die you’re new again. Born into a world which your heart remembers but brain thinks is new. It’s been going on forever. There are reasons that the world is growing in population-because sometimes a new spirit is born. This has been my sixth life. Some spirits have had thousands of lives, I’m young, bold. When you’re dead you’re not gone, you could even be at your own funeral. It’s complicated but everyone does it. When families are grieving they’re unaware that their loved ones are alive, unharmed. I died young so my family will be haunted till they die. When they’re born again I could be there mother, father, or uncle. My death...a knife, at the hands of a killer....the death of so many others.

People live forever without knowing-scientists sometimes spend their whole lives trying to find a way to live forever. They don’t have to research anything, they’re living proof. Sometimes your new life isn’t as a human, half the time you’re an animal, beast, free. Some of you may believe in Heaven, Hell, God and Jesus. You’re wrong. This world was made by angels. A group of twenty angels. I am the youngest angel. I was born thousands of years after the others. I am the one who brought freedom to this world. Youth, light, power. You see I also brought with me darkness, death, hatred. I’m Azeri, Angel of Life or others call me the Angel of Death. If you aren’t born an angel, you’re born a spirit. You’re born into a life without a huge expectation on your shoulders.

When you die you’re immediately created again. Not necessarily born. You are put into your new mother’s body. In there you remember everything. Everything that has happened, everyone that you’ve been.  The second you come out it’s gone. Blank from your mind until you go.  Unless you’re an angel. An angel is born beautiful and popular but is different. They remember and know that they can’t tell. They remember when they are at least 13. When they’re mature enough not to spill.
I’m soon going to forget, the time is near. I’ll remember soon enough but no one else will. I’ll have this burden forever but in some ways it’ll be nice knowing you won’t ever really die.
This is my story and im struggling for a name..... PLZ HELP!