i'm reading a book about a man who loses his memory. it isn't about the technical stuff. the how, the why, the chemical connections and vibrations and complications.
what it is about is how his relationship with his wife is affected. he was a full person, with a full past, a full future. and the book so beautifully describes his desperation and overwhelming sense of "do i want to be who i was?"
those of us without the luxury of forgetting must deal with this question the normal way. no eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. days and months and minutes of remembering and realizing and analyzing. wondering who remembers what and if you've made an impact on someone. a kiss, a conversation, an infinite moment.
a few weeks ago, i was home and saw a painting. "You Are Already Whole" it told me, the finger-painted childishness of it almost made me feel pathetic for feeling so moved.
i just wonder: am i?
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