Part One

I no longer remember The Before, except for in candlelit rooms, and on sunny days.

Beaches are also a problem.

Of course I avoid these reminders, along with three course dinners and pastel coloured baloons. When captured accidently by these cruelties my eyes begin to flutter over images of arms and tickling fights, his soft laughter clattering in my ear – and thats it. I have lie down until I recover.

And I managed to keep hold of most of myself in the first few months after The End(for indeed, there is Nothing worth Anything left). Arms tight around my chest formed quite a sturdy barrier, though of course a few things slipping through my hastily made fleshy barricade.

My heart was the first to go – it happened as I stumbled on the sidewalk on the 3rd, after venturing outside to post a letter (that darn letter). Before a could reach down to scoop it up and tape it back into the hole now looming in my chest (a ghastly sight, the sidewalk occupants seemed to all agree) it had tumbled into the street and out of view. Gone, I concided, and clutched at myself a little tighter.

Next was a chunk out of my right lung – it up and left in the middle of the night, leaving me in the morning with a hitch in my breath. Bearable, I thought to myself. Breathing shouldnt be so easy anyway – now I would learn.

Too soon I was losing my grip and woke up 2 months a broken doll no one knew how to sew back together. I had 9 fingers ( one lost while trying to call for pizza), 5/8’s of an ear (the rest had left piece by piece when subjected to unexpected songs on the radio – I had only saved the last part by forgoing music altogether) and only one kidney ( I gave the other away willingly to God one night, praying for you.)

Apart from that I was intact and had learnt how to retain myself by simply avoiding all reminders of the time before in such a way that it never crossed my mind.

“Friends” (is that what they are?) look shocked when I mention these new deformities. They dont see the gaping chest wound, the blood on my hands. They still see the perfect hair, lips and skin; and so I am just Alex to them.

But I am not who I was, and I never will be. Now I live in the present. It is all I am. For with my past forcibly forgotten I cannot have a future.

I am lost and dreaming, and always a Nothing.