Lest I Forget

Brain Glitches

Scott ran. He ran out of the neighborhood. He ran up hills and fought against the light wind chill of the mid-November day. He ran underneath the canopies of the trees and past the running streams in the park and ran until his legs gave out, collapsing in a bed of the greenest grass in the park. It was secluded here, the only sounds were the birds chirping in the trees and the rustling of the leaves dancing with the wind. That sound was almost inaudible to Scott's ears, seeing as all he could pay attention to was the tears staining his cheeks and his sporadic breathing.

How are you supposed to feel when you realize you have no memory of what goes on in your life? Are you supposed to feel this way? How do I even begin to describe this feeling? Scott fought back tears as he sat up and planted his feet on the ground. He began taking everything into consideration. My legs work perfectly. He placed the photo on the ground and stared at his hands and wiggled each finger, twisted his wrists a little and shrugged his shoulders. My arms are fully functioning. He patted himself on his torso and stomach and twisted his body, confirming that he was, indeed, alive. He had survived what his parents couldn't, but he would never have to wake up and remember his own near-death experience. For that he was grateful, but also very overwhelmed.

I almost died just like my parents did. He stared into the grass, his eyes shooting lasers into the ground. A laugh escaped his lips. "I almost died... but I didn't." He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud and he continued to laugh, suddenly realizing that he was more than fortunate for surviving. He wasn't concerned at his memory for the moment... he was concerned for his well-being, and he could most definitely thank his lucky stars for still being on this green Earth. Tears of joy trickled down his face and he sat there, appreciating every little breath, everything tangible around him. He was still here, and that's all that mattered.

Now, for the memory problem. Scott reached up and felt the scarring on his head. He ran a finger along each little bump. Thankfully he could never see this scarring, only feel it if he were truly searching. This made it easier for him to carry on in the mornings, not having anything tangible to visibly see that would set him off. He thought back to what he could remember.

August 9th, 2010. He remembered waking up, his typical routine. It was a Monday, and he was always forcibly energized on Mondays because he'd make himself get some great sleep the night before. Monday was one of his off-days at the restaurant, so he went up to RCA and got a lot accomplished, telling himself that he'd make it into the studio within the next two days to record. He had lunch with Fia, came back to the studios to polish up one of his songs, and then headed home for the day. Kirstin and a couple of her work friends were having a back-to-school bonfire and she invited Scott as her plus-one, considering she was still single at the time. Scott had a great final memorable day, which is also why Scott was confused every morning when he saw her hair... her hair! Scott realized that he didn't even acknowledge her hair. The truth about her hair wasn't that she dyed it and cut it overnight, no. She had done it in between Scott losing his memory.

Scott smiled and thought about Kirstin. She was still able to carry on with her daily life while Scott went on day-to-day not remembering things. He was so grateful for her even more than he was yesterday (all of his yesterdays) and he would make sure to hug her for it later. She had mentioned something earlier about storing all of his photographs somewhere. He had kept up with taking pictures, which means she was stocking his film every night to make sure he wouldn't suspect anything. If that's not true friendship, Scott didn't know what was. Speaking of photographs, Scott picked up the picture and stared at the person he had met earlier on. Mitch. That name lingered in his mind as he studied the way he was looking at the brunette boy. He looked at him with such passion, such drive. He hadn't met Mitch before his accident, so this was a true first impression. Scott shook his head and traced his finger gently over Mitch. There was something about this stranger now that made him feel a connection.