ALL IN THE HEAD 1

PICTURES OF YOU

Odd sometimes how a memory you have may not quite be just how that moment actually played out. Or perhaps you think you remember one thing when it was not a thing at all. And in times of recollection, said memory may be more positive than it should be. You may be sure how a particular moment or event played out and someone else may recall that moment, if it is a shared moment, as being somewhat different to how you see it or remember seeing it.

Perhaps a moment is recorded in picture form or on tape either visual or aural and when you relive it, it is not quite how you remember it. Yeah, memories can sometimes be kinder than an actual moment. Then there is not remembering at all. It can be a strange thing, not remembering ... Memories, yeah, there is that.

What if you wake one day to find years have passed and you struggle to remember any of those passed years, so much so that something must be very wrong? And if there had been a loved one at your side all those years ago, someone who is not there is this moment, how do you go forward not knowing where you have been or where you are headed to, especially without the knowledge of where that loved one could be?

What if while feeling nostalgic you reminisce while going through a number of photographs only to have those photographs tell a little bit different of a story to what you remember? You might feel you are a victim of a practical joke but what if there is no joke or if the joke in a different way is on you?

The joke being placed on me is that my own brain is letting me down. I have a problem with my short-term memory and to be honest I cannot remember how long this has been going on. It is a letter I have first, a letter for me before I get to any pictures. Yeah, I have a letter that tells me some things and apparently, I wrote it. I recognize the handwriting, but I cannot remember writing it.

The letter tells me of my condition and since I do not remember writing the letter than it must be true. Apparently, I have trouble making new memories and as it is, this seems to have been going on for a while.

I am twenty-six years old. I am sure of this or at least I was sure about this until I looked into a mirror not so long ago. The reflection looking back at me of is someone a fair bit older than twenty-six years of age.

The date I am sure is August eighteenth, 2000. There is a newspaper on a table close by that states today's date as being August first, 2019. Twenty friggen nineteen, if this is true then I am forty friggen five and the reflection I see agrees with the assumption or the possibility that I am forty-five. I guess if I can't make new short-term memories then I cannot make long-term memories either.

So, if all is true then I will not remember this, my dear. I soon won't remember keeping a record for you. This record, this journal entry I guess, is as much for me as it is for you. If I am writing to you, for you, I have no idea where I am going to send it or even if I can send it. If I have aged nineteen years, I guess, I hope you have also aged nineteen years, but I am not sure of that. Soon, as it would appear, I will not remember writing any of this.

Are you still with me? Are we still together? Has something happened to you? Oh, please tell me nothing has. If something has happened to you then I guess I should be thankful for small graces for I cannot remember. I cannot grieve if I know not what to grieve for. Maybe grief is what has me the way I am. Maybe I simply cannot deal with losing you that my mind will not remember.

Something that has me thinking that something has happened to you is that I have a number of photographs in my possession and in each of these photographs, I see you. I am in some of these photographs too and not one of them suggests that either of us have aged past twenty-six. I clearly have but what about you?

You are not with me right now; in fact, no one is. I am currently alone in a place I do not recognize. Maybe I live here, maybe we live here, and I have been unable to make any new memories since moving in and if you are living here too then I cannot find any proof of that, I cannot see anything that might belong to anyone else other than me, then again, I cannot be sure anything I do see does belong to me. I could be in a stranger's home for all I know.

And if you do live here then why don't I have any recent photos of you?

These pictures of you, of us, I must be losing my long-term memory too for I can't say of when and where they all have been taken. There is this one picture of you, me, and a rather large stuffed unicorn.

I remember that day. We were at a carnival. A gang of us had gone there though pretty soon we broke away. There was this water game. Five people play at once, each with a water gun. We aim into a smiling bucket and the water going into these buckets then goes into an expanding balloon. First one to burst a balloon wins a prize.

We kinda almost sabotaged each other, that was you more than me, remember? I do ... remember that is ... or at least that particular memory. You began bumping into me to get a head start on me, so I bumped you back. Somehow, I still managed to win, and you got to pick the prize. Oh hell, that unicorn is here. I can see it in the corner of the next room over. So, are you still with me? Oh, please say you are. Still, there are no pictures of you being ... older. Why? No pictures of us older, why?

There is this one photo. I am not sure. I kinda recognize it but I can't place it ... you and I on a beach, where was that? Oh ... I think I have it ... you wanted to go dancing without shoes on and I suggested the beach. That was it, wasn't it? Why am I asking? If you really are gone than you are not likely to answer, are you?

That day on the beach, we danced for hours ... hours to imaginary music. The waves were our music. The sun and the birds in the sky were our music. The passersby and the ice-cream vans were all our music. It is all coming back and so clearly now too. If this memory can come back, then what else can come back. Can you come back?

The sun burn, remember that? We both hurt for days. I would happily go back to that day if I could do it all over again.

Oh crap, you are gone, aren't you? Where I am, this place, all that I can or can't remember ... none of that matters if I ain't got you. What am I gonna do without you? How am I gonna go on? How have I gone on? I have these pictures of you ... they will get me through. I guess they have got me this far ... those pictures of you?