boy in seoul

interlude: blank faces

4th of March

It was scary.

Someone mentioned their parents today. Not the most unusual thing I guess for a group of students. I held back a bit not wanting to talk with everyone about my parents. I guess even after all this time and with all that happened, it is still a sensitive topic for me.

Thank got no one asked me about my family but then they started telling each other childhood stories. First I just listened but then I tried to remember one of mine, not that I had the intention of telling anyone but for me.

I know I have a lot of happy memories from when I was younger but I can't remember them. Not a single one. I can do what I want nothing is coming back to me. First day at school? Nothing. Friends from middle school? Nothing. I know I had them but did we eat lunch together and met up after school or were we just school friends? How many were we?

Did I play some sort of sport? In high school I did. But what about before? The worst thing is I can't even look through old diaries because I wasn't writing a diary at that time.

And it's not just that. My childhood is like a void but worse is that my parents are like shadows from that time. I can't remember them. I don't know how they look like, how they sound like, how they feel like. I know my mom loved hugging me and I loved hugging her back but the feeling I got when she wrapped her arms around me ... there is nothing.

I don't know if it was a panic attack or if I just freaked out but I had to get away. I think if I had heard one more story, even one more word I would have yelled at someone.

It freaked me out so much I left the others behind. I walked all over downtown for god knows how long. No surprise but I ended up at Stanley Park in front of my favorite café. I have to work a while to pay for a whole meal there but I had to get at least one thing from the menu to calm me down. Cactus' lava cake is just too delicious.

I have calmed down a bit by now. Still can't grasp that I can't remember. And why didn't I notice before? But then how could I? It has been a couple of crazy years. I can't remember the last time I stopped. Maybe this is a good thing. Now I am aware of how much damage I actually caused.

I don't know just yet how I explain my dramatic departure to my friends but I have until tomorrow to figure that out. Maybe I though in a family history that is too painful to talk about. That's not even a complete lie.

On the other hand, maybe I don't even have to tell such a big lie. Like I wrote yesterday I can feel it coming again. No idea how long I will stay here? How much time I have remaining? Maybe another year? Six months? Shorter than that? Probably not.

I guess I should go home now. It looks like rain and anyways there is no point in thinking about that. When the day comes it comes there is nothing I can do to stop it.