Author: Cassandra
I think I’m getting more to understand how memory works. Yet why do I feel like there’s some void? Like, as if my memory has gaps in it, but they are not literal gaps. I did not, like, there was nothing in them. Nothing really happened, but I can’t even recall how were the last 20 years of my life. How did I live them, and how did i experience shit.
Because I think I did not allow any kind of sentimental bitching to it. So the memory just got erased. It’s more like if you delete any sentimental attachment to anything, or to anyone, or to any place, whenever you exist in that place or with that person, I think the memories won’t form. They would be so passive to the point where whenever you try, to recall them, it’s more like it’s impossible, because you just have nothing to hold still these memories, which is kind of weird. (Once, I had to have a blood transfusion. Two days later, I was seeing a doctor again, and when he asked me if I’d had a blood transfusion recently, I said no because I’d completely forgotten about it. He was planning to give me another one, and then my dad called and told him, “Why are you giving her another blood transfusion? She had one two days ago.”The doctor said something like: she absolutely did not mention that.I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, but that’s how I remember it. And it’s funny.)
Because if I go back to my old days, I think the last twelve years of my life, in fact, feels like a riddle, because I can’t really recall exactly what happens in certain months. Sometimes I do have, like, a bit of trauma recall on some things, but other than that, I don’t even seem to feel nostalgic to places or people with whom I should’ve recalled the happy supposed moments.
And it’s so weird. It’s so weird. It’s like, as a person, I did not exist. It’s like if the people around me did not remind me of my existence, I wouldn’t even believe that I existed in certain times.
But I forgot to mention one thing. I don’t think I related any emotional attachment to shit because it started from a really, really, really young age.
From that age, from when I started first being conscious of who I am, I think I always was watching myself from a different place. It’s like I was watching myself from above doing the shit, experiencing the shit, and then being like, Oh, that is interesting. Oh, this happened to her. She must have felt this and that.
Or maybe that’s a bit of a lie. Maybe that came earlier—no, I mean later on in my life.
But earlier on, I was like, How should I feel about this? How should I feel about that? How should I feel about this person doing this to me?
And whenever I’m feeling something, I try to actually explain it to myself.
This happened. That person reacted. I felt this way. Why? What bothered me? Did it even bother me? Was I just annoyed?
Yes, I think at a younger age, this is how I saw people and the world, through these lenses.
But then I was slowly watching from above what’s happening to the body that holds my soul, and just, like, analyzing stuff, just like I do, always.
I think i recall how my mother would do shit to me and I would be, like, looking to the ground, for example, and inside sounding like this:
Did I deserve that?
Maybe.
Mom said so.
Then, but really, like, did I deserve that?
No?
Once the no is said, I would be like, Maybe I don’t know shit. Maybe she’s right.
Trying to give her chances, I guess.
Yes, maybe I was just trying to give her chances.
And then I don’t even recall crying in these kind of times. I only cry in front of people because they can hear me and see me, so they can empathize with me and I can get whatever I wanted, or I can get, you know, their kindness and not get punished for something I maybe deserved and maybe not.
But I think I was very perfect to the point where I don’t really think I deserved it. It’s just that they liked punishing me because that’s what they know, or maybe because they are evil.
I don’t know.
And then there’s covid.
I was reminded of covid. I cannot, like, I couldn’t recall the covid period on my own, because nothing significant happened in it, and I mostly was just, like, always feeling like always. I’m serious people. When someone one day said covid. I was like “covid what mate?”. They thought i was joking.
It was kind of weird, not even remembering that.
And I think that’s what I mean by the void.
It’s not that there was literally nothing there. I know I lived those years. I know things happened. But when I try to go back and actually find myself in them, it’s like there’s nothing to hold onto.
It’s like the memories are there without really being mine.
And I enjoy this.
I enjoy this freaky feeling of feeling nothing but some void in your life and just living because you live. Or maybe i don’t.
That’s it.
Is it possible to impregnate Susie and use her child against you