Solitism

To what did I give thanks this year? I felt like a ghost as I sat at the family table, the sounds of chatter coming from all around, but none directed at me. It was the same as every other Thanksgiving, only this time it felt personal.

Not because they neglected me. I was accustomed to that and therefore held no ill will towards them for it.

No. What I took personally was the oncoming dementia, betrayed that even my own mind was forsaking me.

For a while now, I'd suspected parts of my life missing, events that were left open-ended, even though I knew I'd fulfilled them. The evidence was here- in these photos on my parent's wall. How could they exist if I didn't experience those moments?

The strangeness didn't end there. On more than one occasion, I'd blacked out and come to only to discover hours passed- precious time I'd never get back.

It terrified me.

What would happen when I no longer remembered my waking moments? Would they become forgotten like my dreams, where only shards of them remain, haunting me with the incomplete version of the story that was supposed to be?

What would happen then? Would I truly become a ghost? A forgotten soul? Nothing? Was this perhaps a blessing in disguise, a kindness that was afforded to me?

I preferred that option.

If I were to lose my memory... I wouldn't have to live through my constant loneliness again like I did today.