All is forgotten.
The faces that smiled. The voices that vent the joy of pure hearts. The words exchanged. The resolute defiance of youth, the fervor of determined action. They were lost; somewhere in the tiny void separating two parallel worlds.
The road goes straight, no paths intersect, no shelter for repose or laughter. Vision straight and clear. Footsteps steady and assured. Confidence so high I can walk blindfolded.
Is it confidence, really?
Maybe there is nothing left to see; just an even, cemented road with nothing at its end but a void; five hundred miles away, or just twenty feet ahead. The end is the only thing that exists.
I walk and I walk, I haven't stopped in years. Then why did I stop now? Why do I see a divergence, when all there is supposed to be is a linear route to the impending doom?
I was promised amnesia. I was promised deliverance from memories of what has been lost. The road didn't keep its promise, just like I have forgotten mine.
Everything is thrown at me at once, like abandoned toys from a lonely dollhouse. From the corner of my eyes, I see something familiar: myself. Fervent laughter, firm limbs, vigorous at heart, and profound soul.
Vision is a privilege. But right now, I wish I was actually blindfolded. Memories are precious. But right now, I only wish for amnesia.
YOU ARE READING
We are here now.
Short StoryWe must dream, watch them shatter, fall apart piece by piece, agonizingly slow. We must dream again, before reality becomes a truth we can never wake up from. A parallel and gradually converging story of two different personalities of the same per...
