Fragmentation

Today is the day I die…I’m trying desperately to prepare myself for that moment when I take a breath, see my life, and let it out unwillingly, exhaling my final breath.

I’m trying to go through my memories, brace myself for the undeniable happiness and the unforgotten weight of sadness…but I can’t remember everything.

In fact, all I remember are fragments.

I only catch some things. I remember simply important days-or rather-fractions of important days. There are some things I remember that are so seemingly unimportant, but they’re there, crowding up my mind, not leaving enough space for other things that surely are more worthy. At the same time, though, I don’t think I’d be able to let them go if I wanted to. There’s something comforting about the unimportant things.

I lived an entire life, and all I remember are fragments. I can’t tell if I like it that way or not. It’s frustrating, not remembering, because what will I see when I die? What bits of my lifetime will come anew? What have I forgotten for so long that now that I finally remember it, I’ll never be able to come across the thought again? What if I’m missing something important?

I sift through my final memories and again, only find fragments.

Why these fragments? Why are they these simple things, these small portions of important days to worthless ones? Are these the defining changes in my life like I thought they would be?

Not a lot of them, but there are a few.

I inhale deeply, the air filling my lungs, my heart beating steady and slow in my chest.

I did not realize it’d be my last.

this is my intro to my new collection of short stories, Fragmentation, frag·men·ta·tion.

   [frag-muhn-tey-shuhn] 

The act or process of fragmenting; state of being fragmented.

The disintegration, collapse, or breakdown of norms of thought, behavior, or social relationship.

I sincerely hope you enjoy.