Chapter 0 - Memories
“There was a large building in front of me; I felt strange looking at it. Suddenly, three lines formed around me, all heading toward this building, it was organized. I, who was also in a line, caught myself thinking about what this technological construction could be; it was small, maybe two stories, but long, constituting four large entrances, all leading to a dark space, where whoever entered was no longer seen. I then followed, with my steps synchronized with the others, into this building. We were few; from what I remember, maybe about ten, three in each row, adding mine, making twelve people , but there could have been more, I don’t recall. Then we entered, one at a time; I was the second to last or last. When I entered, I remember having talked with some people before, my body trembled, and then I found myself there, small and cold.”
— I said, while sitting in a leather armchair facing the window, seeing the snow fall during the day. —
“You don’t remember for sure what happened when you entered? Because it seems to me that this fragment of your memory makes everything more complex from your perspectives."
— The girl with long brown hair spoke to me; she was my psychologist.— She sat in another armchair, facing me. However, while I admired the day, she focused on me, trying to catch any crumb of explanation for my feelings of despair and fear. “I still believe that one day I will figure it out, but even forcing it, nothing comes out. It is similar to a feeling of loss, as if I had... lost my keys”, I said, questioning, noting that I had made a good analogy for my memories. You know, when you look for your keys before work, knowing they are right there somewhere looking at you, asking to be picked up, asking for you to leave with them, but you don’t find them? It is exactly like this with my memories: it seems that they call me, and I want them, but this fraction of what I was, did or am makes me... leaves me anguished.”
— I said, looking deeply at the psychologist Ellen, who looked back at me with affection, understanding now what I felt.— I hoped to have an answer in that session, but it was the first of many and, deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be so easy. She forced me to use this diary, which is where I write now. Nice to meet you, Oblivion, my name is Ally.
