Forget-me-not

Cynthia

Not knowing who you are is terrifying. There's something hollow about not remembering who you are. A stranger stood in the mirror in front of her. Two strangers standing silently and staring at each other until Cynthia blinked and realized it was just herself. 

She stared at her face in the bathroom mirror studying her features. Who was this? The shape of her eyebrows, the shape of her lips, the curve of her jaw, and the slant of her nose. It was hard to believe that she was a real person. 

When she waved a hand in the mirror, the stranger waved back. When she blinked, so did they. Every move was met with a similar movement from her reflection. It was hard to grasp that there was a soul in this body and it was hers. 

When babies are born, there's this naivety they're unaware of. Their bodies aren't fully formed yet and neither are their brains. They don't know anyone and they have all the time in the world to learn and grow. They learn their names, their parents' names, and they figure out relationships. 

It's different being a fully grown adult and not remembering who you are. Life waits for no one and the earth continues spinning on its axis. The only one who knew Cynthia was Flora, but Flora didn't really know Cynthia. Flora didn't know the way her brain worked. She didn't know the thoughts Cynthia had. She didn't know the real Cynthia. 

There are parts of us that we hide either willingly or involuntarily. Not everyone knows everything about everyone. You might not know the thoughts your friends have. You might not know the specific things that make them tick. You don't always know what they indulge in during their free time and when they're away from you. Nobody knows you like you. 

Cynthia pulled her hands away from the porcelain countertop and began heading back to her bedroom. She woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom. After catching a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, her brain began to spiral. 

Who am I? I am you. I am me. We are us. This is me.  

She tip-toed her way past Flora's room and back into her own room. The bedroom handle squeaked a little when she turned it and began to shut the door. Once it shut, she let go of it and padded back into her bed. 

The puppy plushie she found earlier was waiting for her. Flora didn't know much about it. Cynthia didn't mind it. The small figure kept her comfort in the darkened room. She clutched it tight to her chest and curled up onto her side. 

There were so many strangers outside this apartment. At least, that's what Flora told her earlier. Tomorrow morning, Flora was taking her back to the hospital for a checkup. After that, she was supposed to attend her first occupational therapy session. 

Anxiety fluttered in her chest. How was she supposed to interact with so many people if she couldn't remember herself? She didn't even remember the appointment until Flora told her earlier. Everything seemed to slip her mind lately. 

She had all these questions about the past and then they faded away before she could ask Flora. She felt like an alien trying to adapt to a new society. There were so many things her brain forgot. So many new things to learn and it was overwhelming. 

She sniffled and clutched the plushie tighter. She closed her eyes before her tears had a chance to fall. How was she supposed to live properly like this? She couldn't remember how to do anything. 

Earlier, Flora began talking about Cynthia's old job at a flower shop. She talked about all the flowers Cynthia used to talk about and it created an instant headache. When she began talking about plants, Cynthia had to excuse herself into the bathroom. 

Even the smallest tidbits of information were overwhelming. Her brain kept going back to the one thing her doctor said. 'Recovery is a gradual process and it doesn't happen overnight.' That was the only thing that was keeping her from losing it entirely. 

She couldn't remember her parents or her co-workers. She couldn't remember the place she worked. She didn't know if she had other friends or not. When Flora started talking about teaching her how to drive again, she nearly burst into tears. Being on the road with multiple other cars was the last place she wanted to be. 

Her muscles relaxed on the bed. She kept her eyes closed and focused on her breathing. The lulling sound of air filling her lungs and releasing was the only thing that seemed to bring comfort besides the puppy in her arms. 

Her heartbeat walloped in her ears. Down below, cars whooshed by and disappeared into the darkness. The clouds glided and parted throughout the night. Seoul was kissed by stars and the moon gazed down. 

Eventually, Cynthia began drifting off to sleep. Her breathing slowed down and her body relaxed. Her arms began to loosen around the plush. It slipped from her grasp and the soft fabric pressed against her cheek. That's where the two stayed the majority of the night, cheek-to-cheek. 

Tomorrow was another day and Cynthia would try again.