Anastasia

"Who are you?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everthing changed when I was attacked. Not just that I was mugged or slapped around. Its that I forgot...

I don't know who I am, or who anyone is for that matter. I see all these faces sad and hopeless, but I don't know why. Some say there my family, an some say there friends but I don't know the difference. There all strangers to me. Weird thing is, there's this boy who is staring at me with so much love an adoration, and honest to god its kind of creepy.

"Dude will you stop staring at me, its creeping me the fuck out."

He looked taken back by my out burst an I felt kind of bad, when his face fell an turned to a sad expression. He looked up at me with a sad smile and glossy eyes.

"You don't remember me do you..." he whispered looking guilty.

I shook my head and folded my hands together fiddling with my thumbs.

"I'm your boyfriend Josh, you'd love when I stared at you. You said it made feel protected that someone was always watching you."

I was in tears when he was finished. Not from what he was saying but cause I couldn't remember him. I can see the love he has for me, but the love he has is for the girl I used to be. And that's what hurts the most, its that I don't love him but I feel remorse and heartache for the man. How can you love someone you don't know?

"Josh...i'm so sorry; I really wish I could remember you, love you the way I'm suppose to..." I sobbed.

"Ana...please don't cry, I know its hard for you and maybe you'll remember me maybe you wont. But that will never change how I feel about you, I'll always love you." He said while grabbing my hands and pulling me onto his lap. At the moment I didn't even care that he was a stranger, but I clanged to his shirt and cried my heart out. Not for his lost, but mine. For losing everyone and everything that mattered to me. It's pathetic actually, I don't even know what mattered to me?

But maybe, something's were meant to be forgotten....

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *