You're losing your memory.
That's a terrifying thought. None of the doctors know why, they just whisper and cast you pitying glances. You haven't told your family yet. God, and your friends are going to be appalled. It's going to be horrific.
You're losing your memory.
Really, you know you are. You can't remember where you put the phone just a few minutes ago. You can't remember why you smiled when you walked down the street. Hell, you can't even remember the damn street! It's all blurry.
You're losing your memory.
God, that sucks.
No, it really doesn't have to be bad. You can live gracefully, even without your memory intact. I mean, you have to, don't you? You can't just stop living. You have a cat that is entirely dependent on you. There are other people too, but right now all you seem to recall is that cat. You wonder briefly what its name is, but seeing as you can't recollect it, you'll have to settle for cat. Maybe that's its name. Cat.
Maybe those other people will be worried about your memory. Maybe they won't care. Maybe it wouldn't really matter, and maybe it will change everything.
Your lower lip stings, but you can't remember if you bit it.
You're losing your memory.
Life is smudging all around you. That afternoon at the beach is gone. The beautiful sunset over that field. Your best friend throwing pillows at you. The first time someone touched their lips to yours.
It's all disappeared from your head. You look around but it's not here. You wonder what will be left once everything is gone.
You're losing your memory.
You wonder if you ever lived at all, if you can't remember anything from the life you led.
Then you wonder if there's any ice-cream in the fridge.
You're hungry and it does no good thinking over an empty stomach.
What were you looking for again?
Damn it, you forgot.
