Nothing In Particular

4/11/20 5:52:57

“and so forth, you know what I mean?” I’m not really sure who she is, or where she came from, but she seems nice enough I guess.

“I mean, there’s something majestically tragic about being forgotten.” She says, more to the air than anyone in particular. “Something about knowing that you exist, but no one else remembers is kinda beautiful. It’s like you’re a secret that was once shown but now is being sheltered from everyone else and you’re the only one in on it.”

Honestly, I don’t really know what she’s talking about. Personally, I think I’d be all types of fucked up if no one remembered me, but I can’t really tell if she’s being serious or just saying it cause it’s on her mind.

“If something forgotten is later recalled, was it ever really forgotten or just cast in the shadows of more prominent memories?” She continues, a look of wonder settling on her face.

I look to her, not sure if she’s expecting me to respond, but she doesn’t seem to even be aware that I’m there. 

“And what even counts as a memory. Like what is a complete memory? If you could record a memory, and re-watch it, where would it start and where does it end? And can you watch a memory of you watching a memory of something?” She says, her voice getting more passionate as she continues voicing her thoughts, seemingly oblivious that she has an audience. “And if you can watch other people’s memories, do you see it as they do, or do you see it as you would, were it your own? Or do you see it as they do, but your own biases prevent you from really understanding it from their point of view. Is there a way to truly be unbiased when observing something?”

She turns and stares directly at me, but her eyes have a glazed over look, and she doesn’t appear to see me. Then she goes back to staring in front of her.

“If consciousness could take a form, what would it look like? I’d assume that it would take a different form depending on whose it is. But does it take a form of that person's creation, or would it be random? But what is random? Wouldn’t it still need the building blocks of something that is already in existence, thus is it truly random, or is it a jumble of pre existing features assembled to create a new form?”

“If our consciousness could take a form, would it then become its own entity? And how similar would it be to its originator? Would it feel, or just react using the memory of feeling? But is that not what we already do? Each person to themselves react to situations differently due to their associations with how to react to similar situations, right?

“And if we create what we think is the ‘right’ way to react based on how others respond to our reactions, then are our reactions authentic or fabricated. Or are they not separate entities of their own? Is our authentic self a fabricated and ever changing creation from our experiences, understanding, and memories?”

I really am not sure where she’s going with any of this, but it’s interesting to listen to none the less. It was kind of making my brain hurt to think about though. I don’t really know how to not be rude, but I think I need a break.

“I don’t mind if you leave” she says, as though she could read my mind. “You might be stuck here for a bit though.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Where else have you got to go?” She asks.

I blink and realize we’re in my room. Oh, well I could maybe pretend I need food so I can at least go to the kitchen alone for a little.

“I feel a bit peaky.” I say “You hungry?”

Shit, I meant to go by myself. Well, it’d be rude to not offer, but she seems to know what’s on my mind.

“You want some time alone, don’t you?” She says kindly. “I’m alright. I’ll be here when you get back. Take your time.”

I nod and get up. Opening my door I step out into the kitchen. Huh, I forgot the kitchen was right outside my room. How silly of me. I go to the cupboard trying to figure out what I want. Always the same debate, sweet or salty? Why not both? Separately, or one thing simultaneously sweet and salty? What about spicy, or sour. Why do all our taste senses start with S’s? Oh there’s bitter, but who ever thinks to themself ‘oh I’m hungry, lemme get something bitter to munch on?’ Naw, that would be ridiculous.

Oh, there’s also tart. Now what differentiates tart from sour? I dunno, whatever. Anyways, I think I want some saltines and peanut butter. I grab them from the cupboard and lay them out. Then I sprinkle some cinnamon and chocolate chips on top. Yum!

I head back down the hall into my room.

“Hey, I made some extra if you want some.” I say, opening the door. But the girl is gone, and this isn’t my room.

I turn around looking back down the hall that I just came from, there are several doors on either side. Maybe I walked by and missed it? I start opening each door looking for my room and the girl, but all I see are confused faces looking back at me. I make it back to a living room at the end of the hall, the girl nowhere to be found.

“Where are you?” I call out down the hall at the top of my lungs. “I didn’t mean to be rude by leaving, I just got hungry. But I made us a snack, there's enough to share.”

“Darling, who are you looking for?” I whip around thinking it’s her.

“Oh hi.” I say disappointed. “I’m just looking for the girl.”

“The girl?”

“I dunno her name, but she was waiting in my room when I went to make a snack, but when I got back she wasn’t there.” I explain. “I also might have gone to the wrong room though. Will you help me find her?”

“Your room’s down this way hun.” I follow back down the hall to the last room. “Here you are.”

But it’s the room I just checked and it’s not mine. There are no pictures on the wall, and the window isn’t there.

“This isn’t my room.” I say. “It’s too empty.”

“Oh, love you only brought a few things with you. You can add more stuff if you like. Do you want me to call your mom so you can ask her to bring a few things?”

“No, I was just in my room. And the girl was sitting there.” I point to where I think she would have been in my room. “We were talking and she said she’d be there when I got back. She wouldn’t lie to me.”

Though honestly, I don’t even know her name, so maybe she did. Maybe she got bored with me and left. I don’t blame her, I get bored of me too.

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t see anyone here, but enjoy your snack.” I hear the door close behind me as I stand there, feeling confused.

“What’d you make?” I turn to my bed and there she is, laying on her stomach reading a book from my small collection.

“Where’d you come from?” I ask in surprise.

“What’s it matter?” She asks playfully. “I’m here, isn’t that all that matters?

“Sure.” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and setting down my plate. “Want some?”

“Looks delicious, but do you really plan on eating all that?” She asks a little meaner than I thought was necessary,

 “No, I made some for you too.” I say, a little less inclined to share now.

“That’s sweet I guess, but I’m good.” She grins “isn’t dinner in like an hour though?”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry now. It’s just a little snack.” I say a little defensively.

“Since when do you need snacks between meals?” She demands, almost aggressively.

“Fine.” I say, my temper rising. “I won’t eat it then.”

“Look,” she says a little softer, “I’m not saying that you can’ eat themt, I just don’t want you to regret it later. Especially ‘cause they make you eat everything at meal times. And I know that can be hard with how much they give you, even when you go to them already hungry. How are you going to feel if you’re already satisfied?”

“You’re right.” I say and push away the plate

But I still want one, they look so good. Ok, I’ll just have one. I reach for one, but I feel her eyes boring into my outstretched hand.

“I just want one.” I protest.

“That’s what you say every time.” she snickers. “The only time that actually happens is when one is all there is.”

“Well I don’t want to waste them.” I try to explain.

“Look.” she says, getting a little frustrated with me. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. This is your life, but I know you, and I know your pattern.You always say ‘just one’, end up eating it all, then hating yourself after and it’s kind of pathetic. And if I'm being completely honest, it’s starting to get annoying. You work so hard on discipline then it all goes out the door in like two seconds. What’s the point of even trying then? What are you striving for? What’s the purpose? What’s your purpose?”

“Ok! I won’t have any then.” I say frustratedly and chuck the one I had in my hand away from me.

It splats on the floor, peanut butter side down.

“Nice, now you’ve made a mess.” She says mockingly, sitting up.

“Fuck off.” I glare at her.

“Hey, I’m trying to be your friend.” she raises her hands defensively. “Might be the only one you’ve got who isn’t gonna lie to you.”

“Well a fat lot of help you’ve been.” I snarl.

“Fine, eat your stupid crackers.” she snaps, getting off the bed.

“Where’re you going?”

“Away from you.” She says coldly. “When you’re ready to be nice again I’ll come back.”

I pick up the plate and chuck it at her, but she’s gone. The plate crashes, smearing peanut butter and cracker crumbs all over the wall.

4/11/20 5:53:07