Memories are a funny thing. Having this illness has made me realize just how much we take them for granted. We don't even realize that some things are memories until they're gone. Like names. The ability to match a face to a name uses our memories. Or our own homes. We all know exactly where each room is without even thinking about it, but that's still using your memory even if you don't think it is.
I wish I had a way to explain how this has really affected my memories, but there's honestly nothing like it. Or at least, nothing that I can remember. But it's just so odd the things that I do remember versus the things that I don't. For example, my own mom. I still don't believe that this woman living in my house is my mother, but they insist that she is and we have plenty of pictures to prove it. But there are the most random, obscure things that I do remember, like the names of people I haven't seen in years. My dad will be showing me old pictures and I'll point someone out and he'll just give me this look... I don't know how to explain it. It's not quite disappointed, but... it makes me uncomfortable nonetheless.
I'd been home from the hospital for a week now, my broken arm basically healed, but my brain still completely out of whack. My parents wouldn't let me go back to school yet, so I just spent my time lazing around the house, looking through photo albums and old school projects, trying to spark up any memories that I could. None of it worked, though. My mind was locked up like a steel trap, refusing to let anything go.
I wondered if it would ever be the same.
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Too Good To Be True?
FanfictionIntro: Angel and David have been together for almost three years now and they're hopelessly in love. They've been through thick and thin, always finding ways out of the most difficult situations. They thought nothing could ever change, that they'd b...
