is the world in its right mind?

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it was really a nice day. he was having a blast. everything was as it is. apparently, having everything normal, for some people, is having a great life. what satisfied strata of society! he woke up with the strands of sun rays dancing on his face through windows. he woke up half-naked then thought it was summer anyway. he went downstairs and got freshen up, wore a berserk human t-shirt which had grey tint and black millions of dots on it with a black three-forth. he went in front of the mirror and recognize his face as his own. it was quite a time he hadn’t looked himself in the mirror and then realize it’s been a month or two. he had a hard time remembering what date it was and so he checked his mobile which was running low on battery. 4% it was showing. he looked at the date, May 12, it showed so. Wednesday, it showed and got shut down as if it was waiting for him to touch it. he left the phone on the charger in the bedroom.

downstairs, he made scrambled eggs and some coffee. he connected his WiFi to the TV and started watching Ghoul on Netflix. everything was awesome. he realized it was so peaceful after quite a time. how old was he? then a number popped in his head. 23, he thought about it for a while and was busy watching the series. the house, he realized, was also glowing different. it was brighter and then thought it must be due to summer. he was smelling some pleasant odor. it calmed him down to the very core. with each sigh, he was realizing, he was becoming more distant from all the worries. for some time he was having a feeling that he was not even sitting on the couch but on a flower petal. he was feeling lighter and lighter. he even thought about flying but then thought how ridiculous it was.

he was done eating breakfast and was washing the vessels in the sink while listening to raps on the laptop. it was very pleasant. mockingly pleasant, I mean. suddenly, almost suddenly, his phone rang. he was walking really fast from the stairway. he missed a step and fell. he didn’t realize he was falling until he reached the ground and his head was aching as if someone is pounding the hammer on it very furiously. without realizing, he was screaming and shouting and twisting and turning. a neighbor broke the door and dialed 9 1 1.

he woke up in a hospital with a neighbor still on his side of bed and doctor on others.

“woken up. that’s great”

he didn’t say anything then found out he couldn’t due to the pipe down his throat.

“don’t move yet. it will take time to recover.”

the neighbor was really anxious about him and wanted to ask him dozens of questions but the presence of the doctor seemed to calm her down. with every movement he would make, she would call the doctor. he realized this and then stopped moving to let her worry less but that gave her trauma too and she was again calling a doctor.

she would stay there during the day and sleep beside him the chair in the night. days were really hazy. they went about like a second and here he was beginning to get better.

“so you can speak now. what’s your name?”

he opened his mouth and closed again. he was sure he knew his name. he was sure of it. it was.... something to do with something. because of it, he got teased in school. because of it, he was different from others in college. after living an isolated life he was okay with the name and desired nothing about it but why he couldn’t remember it now.

the girl, he realized, was suddenly was near him. he thought maybe she never left. she was really worried.

“i ...don’t....remember,” he said really embarrassed.

“well, you have to. alright, tell me about you. how old are you?”

he knew this. he waited for it to pop up like the last time with certain frown growing on his face when he couldn’t remember it.

“i ......don’t know” he finally said.

the doctor scratched his head and then said,

“well, i am your friend. you will have to trust me. i won’t let anyone know. tell me the last thing you remember then, will you?”

he opened his mouth tried to remember but nothing came. nothing. he was frustrated. he didn’t respond but then he remembered the pleasant smell. it was coming from the lady to his right. he pointed towards her and said,

“she is the last thing i remember”

the doctor was puzzled and he wrote hallucinations and amnesia.

“tell about her. what is she like?”

“she smells like a lavender field. she is wearing a blue coat over a grey dress and has black stockings with heels and a grayish purse. ”

he paused and looked to his right. she was there. a certain scar running from her neck was oozing blood but she was smiling. another scar on the left side of her forehead started to bleed out and her eyes were turning red but she was still smiling at him. he continued and explained this to the doctor until he couldn’t keep up with all the blood on her body. he screamed,

“help her. admit her. doc...please. she is hurt. I don’t....can't’ see...her like...this.”

he was panting and struggling to get out of bed. his head started to ooze out blood through the gauze and he fainted. the doctor wrote trauma and migraine.

he woke up. she was still there. the woman with her scars still bleeding. he lay there wondering why she doesn’t admit herself. this time there were cops with the doctor. they asked him certain questions. he just shook his head and they went without any progress.

when he was stable and was eating well the doctor explained to him that there was an accident. he shattered the story in pieces.
he said there were a rod and a knife. he said there was ‘eenie meanie minee mo’ and asked whether that clicked anything but he couldn’t remember. he just couldn’t. the doctor gave him a notepad and a pen to write anything down that he remembers.
after some days doctor said the victim was a woman in her twenties and that she had the same kind of pattern of scars he had explained. he tried to remember but nothing was coming. nothing except questions whose answers were erased from his memory surgically maybe or so he thought.

he took the notepad and wrote

1. who am I?
2. what’s my age?
3. why the wound in the head?
4. is the woman real?
5. who got me here?
6. who is she?

he paused and was playing with the pen for quite a while and then suddenly, almost suddenly a thought passed and it terrified him to his very core. without noticing his hands were writing on the paper

7. did i kill her?

the woman was not there anymore but he could still not stop thinking about her. he took a moment to consider. maybe, he thought, i may have seen her lying dead near when i might have, fortunately, found her. maybe, he tried to chain the thought, i called 9 1 1 and that’s when her murderer caught me and stroke me in the head. maybe, the murderer ran away and some kind person called the ambulance and I am where I am. maybe, that’s how it is.
8. why did I think of her as a neighbor?
another shiver went down from his brain. he told himself to not imagine and try to remember something real.

and here was this man with a book in his hand constantly pleading he was not the murderer and almost dying due to blood puddle his brain was leaking when he would have a traumatic realization.
now, tell me, if the world is in its right mind, this event was his hallucination. the house, the low battery, the smell, and the breakfast were only fragments of his imagination. something he made up to cover the truth for his mind. something that everyone does.

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