The memories are fading fast. Like a candy which melts away in your mouth, leaving only an icky residue and a faint taste when you burp. I remember the things that we did in name only, bullet points in an outline. I can't picture them. Some things, I can't even imagine myself doing. Was that actually me? Was I actually involved, or did I just read it in some comic book? It couldn't have been me. I mean, look at me, for god's sake. You expect me to believe that I had a girlfriend? That someone cared about me? That someone was close to me? It makes no sense. I don't believe it.
By the grace of amnesia, I am a born-again virgin.
Maybe that's why I am so obsessed with making things. Because I can't fucking remember anything that's ever happened to me.
I roll along in my four-dimensional bubble, not thinking about the future and not remembering the past. Roll, roll, roll. And if there is anyone in my path, I either swerve wide or squash them.