Memory Bookcase - Nearing the end

I don't know what day it is.

I don't know what month it is.

I don't know what season it is.

I don't know what year it is.

I don't know who I am.

Nor do I know where I am.

Neither do I know, why I am writing this down.

Why am I writing?

Who is that woman, that walks around in this house all day. Showing me pictures of people I don't know, telling me names I have never heard before?

Is this her house?

How old am I?

Am I really as old as I look like in the mirror, or is that just an illusion?

'Where is my mother? She promised to pick me up after school! Miss Elle! You lied to me! Miss Elle! Mommy! Mommy!'







I don't know what day it is.

I don't know what month it is.

I don't know what season it is.

I don't know what year it is.

I don't know who I am.

All I know, is that I'm slowly walking towards something warm.
I can't see what it is. But it feels safe.
A soft and yet bright light shines over my body.
At the end of the tunnel I can see a young woman, black hair, green eyes, yellow dress with white flowers, a bright orange bag and brown boots.

She reaches out her hand towards me. I grab it. My small hand in hers.

I look down.

I am a little boy, on his way to his first day of school, together with his mother.


"Why do you have to act like you know when you don't know? It's okay if you don't know everything." -Ben Folds.