This was an assignment from ELA but I realy liked it so....Here it is
Please do not copy this story without consent.
-Jay-
~Slowly Slipping~
Memories, they make us who we are, what we like and what we dislike. I lost those memories, I lost who I used to be, not only that..I lost who I cared about most. This is my story, and this is who I used to be.
I always thought my memories would never perish, I would never worry about forgetting, I always thought it was a myth, and I was invincible, and it’d never happen to me.But, I had some memories I actually wanted to get rid of, but my mind bookmarked them,so I could look back on them later.One of those memories was the fact that my little brother Aaron had cancer.
He was always there for me, even when he couldn’t understand some of the stuff I was saying,or what type of situation I was in. When he was confused he’d always frown, then grin and wrap his little arms around me, in attempt of trying to comfort me. But death swiftly caught him, and held on, and suffocated him, making his death extremely painful, but he kept fighting for me, mom and dad. My brother fought for two years, but he lost the fight, with death the victor. He was eight years old when they called his time of death.
I used to try and pretend that he was sleeping, or off to school. Sometimes I actually believed it, it sickened me, it was a bittersweet feeling that kept me at bay from suicidal thought and self-harm.Sometimes I actually craved it, and I relished the numbness, it made me immune to the thought that my brother was actually dead. Afterwards, I’d cry and I thought to myself realizing what I did was terrible, then guilt would washed over me and I’d feel awful,and disgusting.
After his death my memories were started slowly slipping, and I couldn’t get them back, no matter how hard I tried. It started with things that I didn’t really care about, like what day it was. That all started happening when I was around thirteen years old, I don’t exactly really remember…
When I was sixteen I started realizing that this isn’t normal, it’s not normal to start forgetting your parents’ name’s. My parents just thought I was acting up, and doing it on purpose, after all I was a silly kid growing up until the incident.They took me to the doctor and when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, it did. It was so ironic that I didn’t believe it, but after putting the pieces together, I was wrong.
“I’m sorry miss, but you have retrograde amnesia, it may have been caused from the certain sports that you play. I’m very sorry miss Alexandria. ”
Illness took away all I ever cared about, I’ve lost my brother, my memories, and now i’m slowly starting to forget my parents as well. I may even forget who I am myself.After all, my memories is what makes me who I am as a person...right?
After learning I have retrograde amnesia, my parents decided it’d be better if I was homeschooled, so It wouldn’t affect my grades. I had to leave my friends who I used to remember, I think they tried to help me get my memory back….I’m sorry I don’t remember much…
When I was eighteen I became a skilled liar, and I used that skill often, when I caved into self-harm and I fell into a deep depression I hid the scars on my hips and my ankles from my parents easily, they were safely hidden under my clothing. On the other hand my depression was harder to hide, I’d always put on my mask and perform for my audience and leave swiftly-in need of a sharp object.
I know Aaron wouldn’t be pleased to know i’m like this now that he’s gone, but injuring myself is my punishment, now that i’m starting to forget him, and cutting is my newly-found bliss. I can’t keep on living this way. It’s not like anyone cares about me anyway, i’m just a burden to the people i’m living with. They keep telling me they’re my parents, but they don’t seem like it, it feels like they’re being two-faced and hiding away from me, like i’m a disease.
My depression kept getting worse by the day.* Depression is the worst kind of killer. It corners you at night, or when you’re all alone and slowly eats away at any shred of happiness it can find, until there’s nothing left but pain and eventually death.
People just say “Just get over it.” day by day, but they don’t understand what it’s like living this way, knowing you’re losing your memories and having lost a brother, and having no parents, having lost them, like they disappeared in thin air.
I left home with a few more thin lines on my hips, and called a cab asking where a nearby hiking trail was. I thanked the cab driver and started the trail, my mind accompanying me, but my mind is not a happy place to be,i’m always doubting and telling myself i'm not good enough, with thoughts of suicide and cutting.
Looking at all the beauty around me, I ask myself ‘Was this life worth it? Is this it?’ I stand on the edge, and look down at the damp rocks, and the shallow waters, glowing in the moonlight. I take a deep breath and finally,I decide what’s best.
(*Found on google images, under suicidal poems*)
~Jazmin~
