When you forget about you

One hair after the other. I am pretty sure that I have lost a strand of hair in the shower.

Watching all that hair wash down the sink, it felt like a big chunk of me has crumbled away, sucked into a hole. But I’m unwilling to follow, and yet, I don’t exactly know what to do. I had to postpone my original November promise to the end of January. And it’s agonizing. I’m falling behind with my plan. Now it feels like I never had any plans to begin with.

What have I been doing all this time?

This town’s dynamic triggers a form of disillusion that results in forgetfulness and apathy of the worst kind. There’s too much to choose from. You need to know exactly what you want.

I have forgotten about myself completely.

As in what I’m here for and what my strengths are.

When I was on the phone with one of my motor coach suppliers, he made me cry after sharing something personal with him. He said to me that I understood him; he said I understood men. I can’t explain why I had to laugh and cry at the same time.

My sentiments have changed, too. I only started to realise it. It has taken me a while to recollect pieces of who I am and who I have become. My birthmark has moved from one spot to another, which is simply an indication of taking the next step. The cocoon is decomposing; the butterfly has moved westward.

I remember everything but me.

An editor said to me he wasn’t entirely sure where my story was going. At least that reminded me that I have somewhere to go, that I have footsteps to leave behind rather than follow anyone else’s. So where I go is nobody’s business, and the reason doesn’t matter. Yet, I have to illustrate it to the reader somehow because he is oh so interested. It’s simple.

You have your mind and your own self fixed to a lie, and that lie becomes everything. You ultimately have a goal worth chasing. There is a better and more acceptable way of describing it. Call it your own personal existential way of leading your life.

Ok, maybe it’s not as simple. But here’s the simple version of it:

She is a cardiologist looking to mend her broken heart by practicing heart surgery on others. She has sex with healthy men to regain her climax. She loves only three men in her life, not four. She has an aversion against women, who…

She doesn’t believe she has a conscience.

It’s clear where she is going. All you know is that you would never follow her.

Because you’re too scared.

All she wanted was you to keep her head above water.

I’m going to meditate my mind back, regain my creative and expressive spirit and learn to focus again.

I wish I cared a bit more. I only take the initiative when I care. I only shout when I am me.

For a while, I forgot about all this.

It’s a long track, and there is only one thing to remember.

The rest is to be forgotten.

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