Poor man's memory.

   I don't know if anyone has been left dead or alive.
   Well or unwell.
   Scarred or let go.
   I don't know if anyone remembers what happened.
   Vividly or not vividly.
   No notion whatsoever of the passing event.
   Did anyone even see it? Or was it just me? Maybe just me. It must have been. No one else was there.
   Were there? I can't remember. It was like looking through a thick pane of glass. My mind wasn't processing a damn thing.
   I try to open my eyes. My eyelashes seem to be glued together. I crumble. I fall.
   Hold me. Someone hold me.
   But there is nobody. Just cold shoulders and cold arms and cold feet and cold legs. I'm in an ice block but there is no fire to thaw me.
   Thaw me.
   I am numb from the waste down. I can't tell if I have moved my leg, or wiggled my toes. I am crying but there is nowhere for the tears to go so I stop. Stop crying, he would say. Why are you crying?
   A beep. A buzz. A door. A voice. Why can't I understand what they're saying? Every time I try to open my mouth and tell them to speak louder it's like my throat swallows the words before they reach my tongue. Come on. Come on.
   Pressure.
   "Open your eyes."
   I can't.
   "Open them, Sylvie."
   I can't!
   Is that my mother? I power all of my strength towards open my eyelids, and they peel back from each other painfully. Now my eyelids are numb.
   White. Blinding white. Fake bodies. Fake chairs. Fake floor. Fake color. White is not a color.
   I remember I used to say it was until my friend told me otherwise, because no friend can have a friend who's favorite color is white. Which isn't a color.
   White. So pretty in it's disguise. Blank. Dead. Open and never ending. Like black.
   Mmm. Black.
   "Sylvie."
   Where is that voice coming from? I see no one.
   "Look it here, Sylvie."
   Where? Where do I look?
   A blazing fire like lightening in the corner of my eye. Turn my head. Nothing there.
   Heart pounding. Eyes open to nothingness. I look around.
   Where's the door? There is no door.
   Slowly my torso goes numb.
   How did I get here? I have a poor mans memory.
   A blazing fire like lightening in the corner of my other eye. Turn my head. Again nothing there.
   Pressure.
   I close my eyes. Open them.
   My chest starts to go numb.
   I scarcely feel death.
   Yes, death.
   You think I didn't know.
   I imagine my world as everything it was before. White. Endlessly white. With fake bodies. Fake chairs. Fake floor. Fake color. The more I sit here the more fake I feel myself become.
   Each and every piece of me has disappeared. The bed is empty. How am I still here?
   Close my eyes, count to three.
   Open.
   Nothing.