#asleavesfall

I am forgetting everything.

It started with small things - where I left my glasses, the name of that song you used to hum while cooking. I laughed it off at first. Everyone forgets. But then it grew. The forgetting became a fog, thick and slow, curling around the corners of my mind.

Yesterday, I found an old diary in the back of my closet. The leather was cracked, the pages yellowed. I didn’t remember writing in it, but the handwriting was mine - looped and uneven, the way it always was when I was excited or nervous.

I flipped through the pages until one stopped me cold.

“Tonight, I told you I loved you. You didn’t say it back right away. You just looked at me, like you were trying to memorize the moment. And then you smiled. That smile. You said, ‘I was waiting for you to say it first.’ I think I’ll remember this forever.”

I read it again. And again.

But it felt like I was reading about someone else’s life.

Someone braver. Someone who once knew how to love without fear.

I tried to picture your face in that moment.

I tried to hear your voice.

But all I could summon was a vague warmth, like sunlight through a closed window.

No details. No edges. Just the ghost of a feeling.

I sat there for a long time, holding the diary like it might anchor me to something real.

But the truth settled in quietly, like dust:

I am forgetting you.

Not just your face or your voice,

but the way it felt to be yours.

And the worst part?

I don’t know if I’m more afraid of forgetting everything,

The memories are blurred but the feelings... they’ve stayed. They’ve taken root in me, tangled and restless, like vines climbing over walls I never meant to abandon. Sometimes it feels like my whole chest is just a room filled with loose threads, none of them tied, all of them pulling at me at once.