Final Memories
- Reads 55
- Votes 5
- Parts 6
How does it feel when you are living in a world having shames? Did you starve for changes that will make you proud of having a life, having good or bad memories? Did you ever regret that you were born as a human being with human reactions and wanted to be just a person, not an alien, not an angel, not a demon, not a thing, and especially not a God? Would you want to change them, in an easy way? Or you wanted to change your future memories of having a life all by yourself with the hard way instead?
Living in a world that is normal but ashaming, Ambert F. Astin, an Otaku and having a secretly gay personality, goes dreaming of his dreams, imagining what could change his life with someone or something in his imaginations, wanting to make himself special; but none of those dreams became true. Though he had happy memories, the bad things still grew thorns in his life.
But one day, darkness even grew more shadows and he though he had a life unbalanced which his his burdens are heavier. In having much of despair, he suddenly had the ability to craft or create supernatural powers out of his imaginations and automatically masters them all in his mind from the almighty father from the heavens above. He regreted from lacking of faith from Him and promised God one thing, to use the powers he mastered easily in the hardest responsibilities to protect the universe.
He may had found love and hope but are the thorns removed and sowen like the grass, or are they just overgrowing more and now secretes poison?!
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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