Everything now feels like a hallucination to me. I keep grappling with my own sanity, battling in a field of thoughts where victory seems impossible. I am fighting against myself without any assistance or support from anyone, but I do have hope—my best friend. She's the one who might help me understand what I'm missing.
The thought of asking her is like a fleeting glimmer of hope in this dark war between my thoughts, but fear stops me from reaching out. What if she thinks I'm insane, losing the last bits of my sanity, forgetting people and places, and the pictures I've taken?
This fear has taken away the last anchor that helped me stay afloat. Still, I keep trying to climb and swim out of this vast sea that has engulfed me. Finally, I decided to give it a try. I can't fight this battle alone any longer; why not seek help? I no longer care if she judges me—that's the last thing on my mind. What I want now are answers to all the questions swirling in my head.
I gathered all the courage I had and called her. She picked up on the third ring, as she always does.
"Luna!" My voice sounded like a desperate traveler in a desert pleading for water, and she noticed it immediately.
"Yes! Ansu, you don't sound good. Has something happened? Should I come over?" she asked.
I felt like a fish that had returned to water after being out for too long. When she offered to come, I immediately replied without taking a breath, "Yes, I want you here. Can you come ASAP?"
"Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes."
Those ten minutes were the longest of my life; they felt like a century. When the bell rang, and I heard her voice talking to my mom, it was as if I had been reborn. A beam of light had pulled me from the depths of the sea, where I was drowning.
Her footsteps made my heart beat rhythmically, no longer quickened as it had since the call ended. When she entered my room, I could see the shock in her eyes. My room was a complete wreck; all my belongings were scattered, and a set of photos lay on my bed, where I was leaning against the wall. She opened her mouth to speak, but all I could see was her mouth hanging open in disbelief for about ten seconds before she finally managed to say, "What the hell is this?"
"Nothing, just cleaning up the stuff that I had hidden for a long time," I replied.
With a look of concern, she asked, "Why did you call me today? You seemed worried on the phone. Is something bothering you?"
All I could do was offer her a gaze full of pity, desperation, and sadness. I couldn't form any words at that moment. How was I supposed to ask her about the photos? What if she reacted negatively?
Before I could say anything, she approached the bed and noticed all the photos scattered across it. With a concerned expression and an edge of anger in her voice, she asked, "Don't tell me you called me because you miss him and can't figure out how to move on?"
What? I miss him! Can't move on? Did I hear you wrong, or are you asking me if I miss a stranger I don't even remember meeting, but somehow ended up with his picture? I thought in my mind.
"Luna, who am I supposed to miss, and who am I supposed to move on from?" I questioned, bewildered.
My question seemed to make her uncomfortable, but she replied with a disgusted look on her face, "Who else? Your so-called good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend. That asshole—I would gladly murder him if I saw him anywhere."
I tried to calm her down, saying, "Sis, wait a minute, let me process this. I had a boyfriend, and he's... I think this guy is right?" I said, pointing to the photo of me and my ex-boyfriend in my favorite café.
She replied, "Yes, that bastard! How could I forget that dumbass?"
Now, another wave of confusion hits me. Not only have I forgotten people, but I also have no idea who this guy is—he might be my ex-boyfriend, my first love, to be precise. Am I really going insane, or is she playing a prank on me?
I had a boyfriend? The words echoed in my mind, sending a wave of confusion crashing over me. It felt surreal, like a piece of my life puzzle had been tossed into a blender. A boyfriend? I couldn't grasp the reality of it. My friend's furious reaction made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.
"An ex-boyfriend?"
I asked, hoping for clarification. The disbelief in my voice was palpable.
"Yes, Ansu! The one you were crazy about!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with exasperation.
But everything felt like a fog—his name, his face, even the memories seemed to slip through my fingers like sand. I desperately searched for something—anything—that could anchor me in this revelation.
"Can you tell me about him?" I finally managed to ask, my heart racing. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the scattered photos, and then took a deep breath.
"Okay, but you really need to sort this out. His name is Amirag. You were together for almost a year, but things went south, and you broke up pretty badly."
A name surfaced in my mind, but it didn't spark any emotions, just a hollow echo. "What do you mean by 'badly'? Why can't I remember?" I felt a gnawing anxiety beginning to rise within me.
My friend moved closer, her voice softening. "You were hurt, Ansu. It was tough on you, and you've seemed distant since. I thought you were coping, but maybe... maybe you've buried more than just those memories."
As her words sank in, I felt a churning mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and an overwhelming need to understand what had happened.
"How could I forget something like that?"
"Sometimes we block things out to protect ourselves," she said gently.
"But you need to confront this. It's a part of who you are, and you deserve to know your own story."
Facing the reality of my forgotten past felt terrifying, but I realized this was the first step toward reclaiming my sanity and finding clarity. Maybe it was time to dig deeper and uncover the truth, even if it meant confronting painful memories that had been hiding in the shadows.