Memories
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My memories have shattered into a million little pieces of glass, so tiny and invisible on the white floor of my mind. I have lost all but the biggest, the ones that have cut and scarred the deepest. They are the ones that are the least wanted.
Still, I do find them sometimes when I am looking for something else. They scratch me as I search the deceivingly barren floor and I will wonder how I ever lost that little piece of me. Though there are many others I am missing. Ones I know should be there, but aren’t. They leave me riddled with gaping holes. I feel their empty places in me and I know I will never find them all again.
Crying is all lost to me now. It seems to make them more blurry, harder to see.
The search grows more desperate as time goes on and the more I think about what I should remember.
I sometimes consider borrowing someone else’s memories, to try and find mine out. But I am too embarrassed to ask. I know they will be mostly unpleasant and that they just wanted to be left alone.
Some I know would kill to have their memories shatter, cut and disappear like mine. I would kill to have them back. I should kill.
With nothing else left of that time, they are needed. Whatever the unpleasantness. They are mine, and I want them back.
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