How to Forget

i forgot to name this oops

Wednesdays are such boring days, despite the exciting name it receives. It's just smack dab in the middle of the week. It's not as painful as Monday and Tuesday, with the notion that you have barely started the week, and it's not the mild anticipation of Friday you find on Thursdays, and it's not Friday itself where the weekend is imminent and you're let out of school early, nor is it the blessed and forgiving weekend. All you get is the knowledge that you're halfway through the school week.

Usually, Nat would make it more exciting by talking to me or taking me somewhere fun, sometimes making me wonder why I ever go along with him in the process, but he's working on an essay worth a large portion of his grade, so I don't dare disturb him. I want the best for his future, even if my own is doomed.

There's nothing on my "movies to watch" list that fits my mood exactly, and according to my parents I haven't been big on reading since middle school, so my recreational options are limited. It's not like I'm going to go outside at ten o'clock at night and play sports, either, but that may be partially because I hate sports -- I've figured that much out. I also have no academic work to complete, and my teachers don't schedule tasks in advance for us to do before they're actually assigned. Due to all of these things, I'm just scrolling through random applications on my laptop. As bored as I am, I do not discriminate. Every app is welcome in my perusing adventure, even navigators and calculators, which I explore thoroughly just like the others. By the time I exit the application, every tab will have been clicked, every pixel seen, every operation figured out. Maybe this will come in handy one day, but for tonight all I need it to do is occupy me until I get tired enough to go to bed.

Most of the apps on my computer are utilities pre-programmed into it and unable to be deleted, so I start with those first, as I have a tendency to save the best things for last. My documents are pages upon pages of random tidbits of writing that I could've just written on a sticky note, as well as school assignments. They're the first somewhat entertaining things I've found tonight. My download and picture folders serve as the second. As expected, a fraction of the items in there are for school, but I find many hilarious pictures among them. I may have lost my memories in the crash, but I sure as hell didn't lose my type of humor. While I'm there, I go ahead and delete the photos I don't need, then move on to another application.

In the bottom right corner of my desktop, where I would have reached it last even if I were going in order of the apps' arrangement on my computer, I double click on the icon for a messaging app I have been neglecting for a few months. I doubt I was very popular before the crash or that I am after the crash, but there are nevertheless probably some unread messages on here. I anticipate pity messages that people didn't have the guts to verbally present to me.

My messages load, and boy am I correct. My inbox is flooding with messages from when I was first checked into the hospital and the word was spread throughout my school. All of them wish me a speedy recovery, along with the generic consoling phrases you would encounter in every tragic experience. Some of my newer messages are from people wondering how I'm holding up, how things are going with Nat, criticism of my relationship with Nat, and the rest are about normal school things that I missed, which explains a lot about how I'm never the one to know about events my classmates will be attending. People have also shared some links to anonymous confession pages or other forms of self-promotion. I respond to each message with a copy and pasted lie about how I'm sorry for not responding as the first line, in addition to whatever I need to say to each particular one. A few of the people I'm talking to are online at the moment, but I ignore any messages they send me after I've replied to their first.

Next, I move on to the messages from before the crash. Who knows what I might discover here? As much as I'm curious to see what lies within these chats, I'm also equal parts nervous. What if I find something I'll regret seeing? I promised myself I would only focus on my new identity, but now that I am presented with the first shred of information into my past life, I cannot stop myself. When I made that promise to myself, I wasn't being bombarded by people opening up suspicious conversations then never finishing them. I owe it to myself to find closure and to not destroy myself by devoting my brain power to my investigation.