Bathtub. Bathtub. Bathtub.
Why in hell is that the only thing I can think of? Why is it the only lingering fragment of any memory to the time I've forgotten?
It's all bathtubs, Lazarus Effect, and cigarettes.
It's all knives, Green Day, and losing it.
I can't remember what I've forgotten.
My mind is playing tricks on me, fooling itself in its weak state.
I have a paper with words I can't even recall writing. On it is, "Bathtub. Bathtub. Bathtub."
What am I trying to tell myself? I know I've never caught on to riddles, only sequences.
But my own mind doesn't follow an order. It's always forget this and that and remember to remember that random fact.
All the REM sleep in the world can't fix that.
And I'm scared to know why my mind is how it is, and I'm even more scared to talk about it because I don't know what there is that I don't remember and what I do.
It's all car rides, MCR, and screaming.
It's all slides, 21 Jump Street, and dreaming.
But do I want to be dreaming or dead when I finally find out what there is to dread?
Please tell me, I said.
