Who are you, really, when your own memories may not serve you? When the 'you' of just a year ago is a stranger to you today? When your own psyche blurs the lines between complex and insane?
Two people, three minds, and an unresolved mystery converge...
There's another half-year gone now, oh god. It's gone. It's completely, totally, utterly gone.
I'm losing memories. I think it's done, until I look back a few hours later, and suddenly there's another huge gap where M used to be. I... I trusted they would hold those for me. And then never retrieved those memories before I...
They should have given those back to me. Selfish fucker, I bet they did this on purpose, just to spite me. FUCK YOU TOO, M.
***
It's working from the oldest memories up. Taking anything M was holding.
This is my fault. We were the same person. And now I've destroyed M, but they were part of me, so I've destroyed part of me.
How many more memories am I going to lose?
Please stop. Please, please, please stop already.
That's far enough.
***
Just wrote down everything I could remember about grade three before the gaps got there. Grade four was mine; it's still intact.
I still don't remember a lot about grade three.
***
I just... fuck. My hand is shaking. I just went back through my folder of old school projects and other keepsakes. Things I've made over the years. Old poems. Those were M's old poems. And then I looked for more things I could maybe do to stop this, and pulled out an old photo album, and...
It's wrong, M. I know you're not here anymore, but I don't know who to talk to, and I'm scared, because everything I looked at was completely wrong. Like all those photos were stored in glass frames, not little plastic slot-pages, and all that glass had cracked. I know what you mean about those cracks in reality now. But they're not shiny. They're ugly. They're bright and distorted and they chop up bits of even the memories I do have.
These aren't the cracks you were talking about, are they. Those are different. I see them, too, I think, and they scare me. I try not to notice, but after living with you for so long... I can't.
***
Had a new thought, and now I'm scared again. What if M's not gone? I can't feel them anymore, but what if I just knocked them down but not out, and they're still here somewhere, in quiescence, waiting to find a way back again? They're a survivor. They were always the survivor between us. They'll be angry at me, I'm almost sure of it.
Almost.
If they come back, they'll never trust me again. That hurts. I don't want it to, but it does.
***
But at the same time, I don't want M back. I can't lose sight of why I did this. Change always feels icky at first. It always hurts. I got rid of M because I can't get better with them holding me back. I can't change, grow, improve myself, if they're here.
I need to follow through on that. I've paid the price. I can't let it be for nothing. I need to learn to fit in. To be normal.
I can finally learn to be normal.
I need to do this. Even if it requires becoming a completely different person, it doesn't matter anymore. None of this matters anymore. Hahahaha.
I already broke who we were, and I'm not getting it back again. Even if I try.
I'm not going to try.
***
Grade six is gone. All of it.
I can't stop crying.
I didn't even like that year.
***
I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed. X signing off.
Alone.
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