Naked Heart
So I'm reading this book about a woman who wakes up from a coma with amnesia, and it's got me thinking.
What must it be like to wake up with no memory of yourself, your past, your loved ones? To have strangers look at you and profess love and you don't remember that they even existed, yet they look to you with eager, desperate eyes and you feel that you have to give them something, some little thing, because they're so clearly counting on you to, when all you can think is that you don't even know yourself, let alone them?
There are things I don't think I'd terribly mind forgetting. Most of the best years of my life have been these past few, and they've been fairly well recorded here, to at least provide a starting point, so that's something. No one ever thinks, hey, I should write myself a letter about the really important people and things, and my favorite foods, and hopes and dreams, in case I ever wake up in a hospital with no memory.
Well, except maybe me, but I'm wierd like that.
What must it be like to wake up with no memory of yourself, your past, your loved ones? To have strangers look at you and profess love and you don't remember that they even existed, yet they look to you with eager, desperate eyes and you feel that you have to give them something, some little thing, because they're so clearly counting on you to, when all you can think is that you don't even know yourself, let alone them?
There are things I don't think I'd terribly mind forgetting. Most of the best years of my life have been these past few, and they've been fairly well recorded here, to at least provide a starting point, so that's something. No one ever thinks, hey, I should write myself a letter about the really important people and things, and my favorite foods, and hopes and dreams, in case I ever wake up in a hospital with no memory.
Well, except maybe me, but I'm wierd like that.