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2019-10-01 - 5:11 p.m.

When you can't remember what is real versus what is not, it is a very scary place to be. For a short while, I tried embracing the crazy, hair-brained ideas that cropped up in my mind, mostly for the purposes of writing a psychological thriller. Who knows if I ever wrote a thing.

I think I also tried for a while to write down what memories felt real, put them away, then took them back out again later to test my confabulations for authenticity.

I came away from it all feeling monstrously and hopelessly defeated as I cannot even be my own best friend in determining what is real versus what is not.

And then there were people who took advantage of this. For a long time, I suffered in silence with my destroyed memory for fear of being taken advantage of.

Now I don't know what to do about it anymore. I miss my mom.

 

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