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+---- Thread: who am i anymore [ waking + memory loss ] (/showthread.php?tid=6622)
who am i anymore [ waking + memory loss ] - no more - 10-03-2018
[align=center][div style="width:400px; font-size:8.4pt;line-height:1.1;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]The end.
Might there ever truly be such a thing, the ivory of the page accepting the sweeping curve of finality contained in the structure of simplistic words. Encased within moments caught in the minds of others living on though the body is left to rot, entombed within an earth that once spoke so softly to it, calling to all who walk her surface, no matter how slight each memory enough to allow one to survive beyond their death. But what comes after, when one is left within the wake of memory pulled apart, faint gossamer strings uncaring hands have reduced to nothing more than tatters left to settle about a conflicted mind.
Beneath the gentle lull of the ocean all had come to be spun, moments crafted within bright tones cast in the light of the sun, the rumble of words familiar to them, rising in the faint murmur of laughter. Clear was the image of the man who they had found themself caring for, calloused hands used to work, knuckles left scarred from a life he might never care to speak of. Easy was its rise, hands tugging at their heartstrings, a warmth curling in the pit of their stomach.
Slow was the turn, face shifting and changing. Still stark, angular yet given a gentle edge about cheeks which bore a smile easily, dusted with freckles that mirrored their own. Infectious was the laughter, so bright a sound like that of a bell, a silver sound they never tired to hear. Yet it was strained, something beneath it speaking of exhaustion and pain, barely contained no matter her hopes to hide it. And then she was upon the sand once more, back laid bare. They remembered it, the crimson coating the clear curve of spine, marred the stark tone of ribs, splintered as though one sought to snap her.
Useless, of little worth beyond carrying what was needed, another obstacle in the way. Fingers curled, nails biting into the palm of their hand, the first movement performed by the unconscious teen within a week. There had been no sign of life, nothing beyond the shallow sound of each breath escaping cracked lips, the flutter of eyes moving behind the lids every now and then speaking of the things they saw within the darkness. Moan was drawn from them, body drawing closer together, blankets bunching about them. Everything ached, the faint movement after so long of inaction bringing with it pain curling in the depth of their muscles.
Please, no more. Faint the movement of lips, drawn into the shape of each word though no sound was permitted to pass, the exhale of each breath growing quicker. More arose, a patch work of memory swirling about their mind, each attempt to push it all aside only further fuel. The salty tang of the ocean, searing heat about chest and face where iron had soured, so easily found purchase and tore. Within a wash had it fallen, blood filling what had been left of their eye, an empty socket glaring out at a world that had proven uncaring to their plight. Unconscious movement, hand lifting and feeling along the curve of their cheek, finding the patch. Across the stitching fingers trailed, drawn across the visage of an owl.
Beneath it, pulling until – snap. Falling from limp hand they rub along their face, feeling the scarring about empty socket. They had worried, spoken words over them containing with tones of fear, shaky as they did all they could. Nothing but a waste of space, something to be used and cast aside. The only purpose they had now was to be a punching bag, taking all of it until there was nothing left, allowing themself to be subjected to anger simply because they were able to take all of it. In the wrong place at the wrong time.
Shaky breath, hands moving, tucked beneath them. Slowly they pushed themself, lifting their weight. Slight before they were more so now, body left to fuel itself with what little fat and muscle was present until they seemed a skeleton, barely able to lift themself upon legs that sought to buckle. A few attempts before they were moving, clumsy as they shuffled away from the low bed. Amassed atop it blankets and stuffed toys, all carrying a familiar smell but one they could not place. She was there, within a tired mind struggling to comprehend each memory, slipping between their fingers until nothing was left.
Goldie. Perfect a name for she was the golden child, perfect in every way though she could never see it, found cracks and flaws where none were present. Something in them longed for her, wanted to speak with her and know she was real, not a simple dream their mind concocted, a presence meant to comfort. A sister they adored and sought to be like, given a pedestal in a mind that allowed her to become nothing more than an after thought. And then she was gone. Jacob. The one who had become more than a father, a rock they longed for, holding them up when the worst of days arose around them. He was within the threads of the green sweater they had kept close, frayed now as they had picked at it, wrapped in its warmth.
“Pincher...” Croaking voice, dragging upon vocal cords unaccustomed to speech any longer, gravel shoved down their throat. Clouded eye found the door, hand reaching, grasping for the handle. Easily it turned but the door refused, waiting to be pulled. Annoyance rose in a hushed sound until they worked it out, stumbling back as they pulled the door towards them. Sunlight streamed across wooden floors, upon the porch they had collapsed upon a week prior, barely able to drag themself here.
Stretching out before them sand, bright and golden, a tone which stung their eye, grimace drawn across gaunt features. Down the steps they stumbled, clothes hanging off them, gaze upon the ocean as it called to them with a gentle song. There was no thoughts within a head that pounded, the slow course of memories drawing to a halt. Nothing was there, no gentle memory of those days spent within the present of their sisters, nights when they had contemplated and finally given into their want to curl up with their father, days searching for the man they all lost, the dad they adored.
Gossamer threads torn apart, left nothing but tatters. Finally they fell, knees pressing into the sand, head slamming into the fine grains. “I'm sorry...” They wanted to scream but there was nothing left, adrift in a sea of darkness, simply waiting. For what they could never quite say, the words lost to them now, a slate wiped clean. They had received their wish and there was nothing left, the voices fading until only silence was left to them, suffocating as it lodged in their throat.
[ never make a wish unless you truly want it & human au cause i can
pretty much sil got in over their head and in their want to wipe away all of their memories of their injuries, to forget the pain and heartache, their mental manipulation engaged and gave them just that, because of this they don't remember who they are or who anyone else is ]
Re: who am i anymore [ waking + memory loss ] - bubblegum - 10-03-2018
Re: who am i anymore [ waking + memory loss ] - Luciferr - 10-05-2018
/track bc i'm still sick and you deserve a matchable muse ;-;