Disclaimer: i don't own anything, no suing please
PLEASE REVIEW THIS ONE lol
Note: Well, ok, this is a new story but i'm currently working on the last chapter of "do it like you mean it" so don't worry :) I have no sweet clue where this damn story came from but i'm super worried about it, so if you could review it and tell me what you think it would help out greatly lol. This is very strange so i kinda have to set it up. Kathryn is in a mental institution and shes pumped with so much drugs that she doesn't remember anything about her life, anything! keep that in mind and be kind lol. Thanks, morgan, reviewwww please lol
When i look in the mirror i see a...monster. A beast with jagged jaws and horns. I see yellow teeth, red eyes and blood pooling from my mouth like ribbons. In my hand there is a heart which i feast on and i bring my eyes to my chest and see a big gaping hole. Can you understand why i hate the mirror now sebastian? I've been in here for 13 months, 13 days and 12..no..13 minutes, seems as if god is sending me a message. Although the time i have spent here is plenty it still feels much longer. Its as if the life i had before this place never really existed, like i made it up in this periodically eroding brain of mine. I ask myself questions on the daily. Who am I? and then i answer, I am patient number 1281. But i did have a name once...didn't i? Yes, yes i did...if only i could remember it. Nobody in this god foresaken place will help me. The nurses refer to be as "honey" or "sugar", am I a child? I don't know anymore...they treat me like one so i must be...it makes sense enough. Anytime i start to remember the slightest thing they make me take a pil...or give me a needle. I don't think they want me to remember...i can't for the life of my understand why. Now instead of trying i simply accept it, my first name is sugar, my middle name is honey and my last name is 1281.
I wonder if i have a family...well i guess thats stupid, of course i have family...i just don't know who they are. On one of my good days i look in the mirror and try to imagine my mother. We probably look alike. Sometimes i even let my fingers touch the image and i can almost feel her. Its cold to the touch but one has to make do with what they have, and thats all i have. When i remember to do so...i ask questions. What is her name i ask them? They just smile. Why doesn't she come visit i ask them? They tell me that i look tired "its time for a nap honey" I never bother to correct them...honey is my middle name. I've come to the conclusion that she must have passed away, its the only logical answer, because if not, she would come and hug me instead of leaving me here to only hug myself. Sometimes i imagine what could have happened. Maybe we were in a horribble accident...and only i survived. Maybe she somehow sacraficed herself for me, i like that one the best. Maybe she died during childbirth...i don't like that one. But these are just dreams not answers. I suppose its better then nothing though, it helps me sleep.
I've stopped wondering why i'm in here, a mental institution, Because, truthfully, i don't remember...not being in a mental instituation. And honestly its not all that bad. I have friends here, dot for example, who i play checkers with. And rosy, my favorite nurse, she calls me princess. I like that the best...maybe thats my name. She also plays me records, oldies like billy holliday. My favorite song is "gloomy sunday", do you know it sebastian? My favorite part goes like this "angels have no thoughts of ever returning you, would they be angry if i though of joining you? gloomy sunday with shadows i spend it all, my heart and i have decided to end it all". I don't really know why, but it reminds me of you, "sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless, here in the shadows i live with no bliss". Sometimes i sing it aloud, trying to beckon you, but...you never hear me.
There are a meriod of things i cannot remember. My age, my name, my family, essentially, i can't remember who i am or at least, who i was. But i do...remember you. My life is a big cloudy blur but in the middle of the wreckage, is you. Blonde curls, pretty eyes and my name on the tip of your tongue. Who were we sebastian? were we lovers? are we lovers? If so, why don't you come see me? Did we break up? Did i hurt you? Did you hurt me? I can't imagine hurting you...ever.
Your the only thing that helps me remember. I can't quite place the people but i can sligtly understand the situation. Sometimes, depending on the memory...i don't like who i am. There is one in particular that i wish i couldn't remember. In it, were in a room, a dark blue and silver room...it scares me. Theres something about a crucifix, and a girl...a blonde girl? Is that right? were we friends...me and this girl? thats besides the point. You say to me "You need to stop what your doing...your going to kill yourself" your pointing at the crucifix. Then you tell me not to overreact...it was just a bet. I look sad, my nose is bleeding. "Fuck you sebastian, I am immortal, i'm better than human, i'm godzilla and king kong, your nothing but garbage, she can have my spoiled leftovers...its what she deserves...my trash". I don't like that memory, i hope we made up after that and if i didn't say i'm sorry then...i'll say it now...i'm sorry.
When i think of you my heart whimpers...we were in love weren't we? Its a beautiful love story isn't it? I always knew it was, i always knew there had to be a reason for the way i felt. Like half of me was missing, like i wasn't complete, i bet you completed me. I bet we were happy too, i smile when i think about it. I can picture us laughing and holding hands, we held hands didn't we? Because sometimes i can still feel your hand cupping mine. I pretend your with me, not just on my bad days, on my good days too. When they do tests on me...experiments with needles and my blood, i pretend your there to help me. I wonder what i did to deserve to be in here. Surely i wasn't a bad person, maybe it was something i did in another life. You help me get through the day. I tell people all about you, or what i know of you at least. Dot loves to hear stories about you, about us, it also helps to distract her so i can finally win a damn game of checkers. I love telling her about how you look, do you want to know what i tell her sebastian? I tell her to picture the prettiest boy that has ever lived and thats what he looks like. I like to see the look on her face. Her eyes light up and she says "oh kat, he sounds lovely" I'm not sure why she calls me that.
There are very few things i remember other then the one thing i constantly try to forget. Sometimes I can see people, but there nameless. I see a girl with brown hair and big pretty eyes, maybe she was my sister, if i have sisters, or brothers for that matter. The blonde girl came to visit me a few times, she seemed very nice, shes coming to visit again for christmas and judging by the snow outside i'd guess its almost christmas now. Maybe when she does come i'll ask her about you sebastian, surely she must know something. I never remember to ask when she comes because its not very often i get visitors, shes the only one actually. When she first came..she was mean to me but then she said that she didn't want to "get even", that now she only felt bad for me. Shes nice now, she brings me books to read and she highlights her favorite parts for me, i like it when she does that.
I hope this is all a dream, i hope that tomorrow i wake up and none of this will have been real. I hope for that every night and every morning i wake up dissapointed. Its hard not knowing anything about your life, its hard only remembering a boy who may or may not be real.
Why don't you come sebastian? don't you miss me even a little? Every sunday, visiting day, all the nurses do my hair and makeup. I paint my toenails and put on lipgloss and i practice kissing on my hand because...i don't quite remember how. Then i sit in the visiting room and i wait. I watch all of my friends sit and talk with family and friends as the snow blankets the hospital and i smile. I smile because i know, that one day you'll come visit me and until then, i'll get ready every sunday. I'll do my hair, and my makeup, and i'll sit and wait and watch the world outside pass by. But i won't stop smiling because despite what the doctors say is impossible...i know that you'll come, don't worry sebastian...i'll never stop waiting.