saifai | Musings on memory...

I woke up with this thought. I suppose it could be considered a bunny, as I'm sure I could work it into a fic or novel somewhere. I haven't yet decided what to do with it, so I present it to you as a drabble.

My memory escapes me. At the oddest of times I can't remember from one moment to the next. I sometimes see flashes of my old friends in dreams. They grasp my face between gentle hands and whisper to me that I'm wrong, that I haven't changed like I think I have. If only I would just reach out them, they would be there for me.

That seems to be the very heart of the problem. I do reach out to them, and I find myself grasping at air. They aren't there any longer. I don't have anyone around me. I meet new people and I find myself acting in a play whose audience has long abandoned the theater. I'm never entirely sure what to do with myself.

When I finally do muster up the courage to speak, I am sorely lacking. I never know how well I'm received, if at all. In the end I find I cannot care. I won't remember any of it when the morning light breaks into a beautiful new dawn.