We Are Not Who We Used To Be

1

"I'm going up to the attic, darling!" I shouted as I slowly climbed the stairs. I felt the excitement and sadness at the same time about opening the door of that room that belonged to forgotten memories.

When I stepped into the dark room, where I had forgotten its existence for a long time, my heart began to beat timidly.

"What are you doing there, Harry?" I heard Patrick's worried voice.

What was I doing here? For a moment I couldn't find an answer. What was I doing? What was I thinking while coming here? Books! Oh right, I was going to take my old books from here! I would place the useful ones in my library and sell the others. Yes. Books.

"It's very dark in there," Patrick said. "You might fall." He soon stuck a flashlight through the small hole connecting this room to the house.

"Thank you!" I shouted as I took the flashlight from his hand. The room was now slightly brighter. Dust flying in the air and piles of abandoned belongings were carelessly left in the room.

I tried to get rid of the dust floating in the air by waving my hands in the air. I felt like every particle of dust was a memory from the past. Was I running away from my own memories then, not from the dust? Who knows... Oh no! I wasn't running away!

While I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't running away, I found myself on the ground because of a box stuck on my foot. The dust on the ground was dirty on my hands and clothes. The dust flying in the air mixed with my hair. Feeling dirty, I made an unsuccessful attempt to stand up. However, when I saw the photos scattered on the ground, I forgot that I wanted to get up.

I had a look to the photos that scattered around. The colors of the photos were faded, or so it seemed to me. Maybe it was nothing but my memories that faded.

The first photo was from my sister's graduation ceremony. When I first saw the photo, I couldn't remember anything about that day, but within a few seconds I started to remember. The pride in my sister's eyes, the joy in my mother's teary eyes, the flower dress my mother wore that day, my sister's argument with the hairdresser... It was a beautiful day. But it was also full of chaos. Like all beautiful things, it was experienced in a hurry, quickly passed and forgotten.

The other photo was mine. I was on the beach. I was laughing with joy at sunset. This wasn't one of those fake smiles I put on my face because I was taking photos. I was actually laughing. So, once upon a time, I could laugh because I felt like it. So, once upon a time, there were people around me who made me smile. I wonder who I was with that day? Who made me so happy and then took a photo of me while I was laughing?

I couldn't remember. I had forgotten the person who made me happy. Maybe that's why I forgot to smile. Oh I's talking nonsense! I could still smile. In fact, I laugh so beautifully that no one could ever understand how sad I was.

Actually, I couldn't say I was unhappy. I just had no expectations from life, nothing could excite me anymore. I was living like a robot. I was doing everything they wanted me to do perfectly, but I couldn't feel anything while doing it.

I wasn't desperate enough to kill myself, but I didn't make any effort to survive either. For example, I didn't check the stove when I left the house. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt while driving, and I wasn't looking around before crossing the road. Sometimes I didn't eat either. Not always. Just sometimes.

Sometimes. What a sad word! It wasn't as passionate as always. It was not used when talking about indispensable things. No one thought of this word when describing the passions to which they were deeply attached. It couldn't be as sharp as never. It did not and could not express any strong hatred.