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rinueOne of the most intresting characteristics of pain is that you can't remember it once it's ended. Similarly, when it is present, you can't remember its absense. The same could be said of love. I consider this an irony of state dependent memory.
I have completely lost my past. It's very strange. I have trouble talking in anything other than present tense.
I know that I *have* a history; I can look at the documentation, or ask Valancy. But my mind slips over events as though they are jellied glass. It's not just that I have no emotional connection to them, it's that they don't exist to me unless I'm actively thinking about them -- which is hard work. I'm going to try to document it anyway, because Valancy tells me it is important.
It started with the events of last Wednesday, spending time with Thomas and Valancy. Thomas, it must be understood, I have loved for fully half of my life. There has always been an inevitable sense of connection, from the time we first met. We can go for years without speaking and not lose the sense of closeness. (Could, rather. Must remember past tense.)
To be frank, I always found that more annoying than romantic. I've never believed in fate, or soulmates, or any of that crap, and I *certainly* don't think someone can fall deeply and truly in love at age eleven. But there is, nevertheless, no other description for it. If you're saying at this point "that's bullshit", know that I agree with you.
On Wednesday, he simply . . . wasn't there. He was any other college boy, dressed in khakis, drinking too much, and talking about life as an angry white male. There were moments, certainly, which hinted that another Thomas *had* existed, like his instrumental use of Godzilla. . . But more often, he viewed Val and I as just another couple of chicks. We could have been anyone, never mind that the three of us had been best friends for aeons. So could he.
If I could think about it, I'd find it terrifying that a person could simply disappear like that.
Obviously, I'm not in love with him anymore, because he doesn't exist now. In a way, as I've said earlier, this is wonderful -- it means I never, ever have to worry about it again.
What's more frightening, when I have the capacity to be frightened, is that I can't recall ever loving him, or ever being in love. With anyone. At least, that's how it started. Within a few days, the amnesia managed to bleed backward until I could only remember two events for which we were both present. Now, it's almost all gone -- not just him, but everything. There's. Nothing. There.
I can't remember being a kid. I can't really remember my parents, or my family, or anything. Hell, I can't remember the beginning of today. I know that there are certain people I like and certain people I dislike, but I couldn't tell you why. I can remember the origin of certain objects and artifacts if someone asks me, but I mostly keep them around because I know that they *should* mean something to me and I hope that maybe they'll trigger something.
It's ridiculous. I shouldn't be reacting like this. Nothing has happened that could cause it; I've received no head trauma and I refuse to believe that my entire psychology can be affected by one idiotic. . . I don't even know. I don't know what caused it. I have to have caused it, and I have to be able to stop it.
Of course, I don't care whether or not I stop it, because I have no attachment to the memories I should be trying to get back, but people tell me it's important and my brain tells me they are trustworthy and not generally self-centered.
The one bright spot in this is that I'm an incredibly good improv actor, and so I can fool most people into thinking I'm still me. And obviously, there are still people and pastimes whose company I enjoy. And, of course, I retain my sense of humor. If that's ever gone, I don't know what I'll do.
I have completely lost my past. It's very strange. I have trouble talking in anything other than present tense.
I know that I *have* a history; I can look at the documentation, or ask Valancy. But my mind slips over events as though they are jellied glass. It's not just that I have no emotional connection to them, it's that they don't exist to me unless I'm actively thinking about them -- which is hard work. I'm going to try to document it anyway, because Valancy tells me it is important.
It started with the events of last Wednesday, spending time with Thomas and Valancy. Thomas, it must be understood, I have loved for fully half of my life. There has always been an inevitable sense of connection, from the time we first met. We can go for years without speaking and not lose the sense of closeness. (Could, rather. Must remember past tense.)
To be frank, I always found that more annoying than romantic. I've never believed in fate, or soulmates, or any of that crap, and I *certainly* don't think someone can fall deeply and truly in love at age eleven. But there is, nevertheless, no other description for it. If you're saying at this point "that's bullshit", know that I agree with you.
On Wednesday, he simply . . . wasn't there. He was any other college boy, dressed in khakis, drinking too much, and talking about life as an angry white male. There were moments, certainly, which hinted that another Thomas *had* existed, like his instrumental use of Godzilla. . . But more often, he viewed Val and I as just another couple of chicks. We could have been anyone, never mind that the three of us had been best friends for aeons. So could he.
If I could think about it, I'd find it terrifying that a person could simply disappear like that.
Obviously, I'm not in love with him anymore, because he doesn't exist now. In a way, as I've said earlier, this is wonderful -- it means I never, ever have to worry about it again.
What's more frightening, when I have the capacity to be frightened, is that I can't recall ever loving him, or ever being in love. With anyone. At least, that's how it started. Within a few days, the amnesia managed to bleed backward until I could only remember two events for which we were both present. Now, it's almost all gone -- not just him, but everything. There's. Nothing. There.
I can't remember being a kid. I can't really remember my parents, or my family, or anything. Hell, I can't remember the beginning of today. I know that there are certain people I like and certain people I dislike, but I couldn't tell you why. I can remember the origin of certain objects and artifacts if someone asks me, but I mostly keep them around because I know that they *should* mean something to me and I hope that maybe they'll trigger something.
It's ridiculous. I shouldn't be reacting like this. Nothing has happened that could cause it; I've received no head trauma and I refuse to believe that my entire psychology can be affected by one idiotic. . . I don't even know. I don't know what caused it. I have to have caused it, and I have to be able to stop it.
Of course, I don't care whether or not I stop it, because I have no attachment to the memories I should be trying to get back, but people tell me it's important and my brain tells me they are trustworthy and not generally self-centered.
The one bright spot in this is that I'm an incredibly good improv actor, and so I can fool most people into thinking I'm still me. And obviously, there are still people and pastimes whose company I enjoy. And, of course, I retain my sense of humor. If that's ever gone, I don't know what I'll do.
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Welcome to my sickness
Date: 2001-08-21 04:39 am (UTC)Amnesia's one hell of a coping mechanism. It's fun, eccentric and charming. What would I do without it?