I don't remember what I was before. I don't know why my memory is so slippery. It's so slippery...it keeps slipping away. Why?
Why don't I remember much?
Why is it that I only remember these tortuous days?
I want to stop recalling these torturous days. I want to go back.
̶B̶a̶c̶k̶.̶ ̶B̶a̶c̶k̶.̶ ̶B̶a̶c̶k̶.̶ ̶
̶H̶o̶w̶ ̶f̶a̶r̶ ̶b̶a̶c̶k̶?̶
No.
I feel like there are voices in my head sometimes.
But then I think it's maybe me from the past.
I remember my parents...but only like hazes.
But a clarity emerges when I think of my sister's face.
My sister.
Why don't I see her anymore?
I should, shouldn't I?
But how?
I don't know where she is.
I don't know where any of them are.
Will I know?
Sometimes I think I don't want to know.
But then I hate myself when I think that.
I want to know and I want to know so badly.
Very badly.
My sister?
I am sure she was kind to me. She must have been, because that's how I remember her to be.
I am sure her love was deep, and I returned it like that.
I am very sure.
It is the only certainty I have.
My sister's love is the only certainty I have now. There were other people. But I think they didn't really have that love for me. Did they?
But I did.
It's so... different to feel alone.
Solitude.
Pure solitude.
