Member-only story
Life Is in the Interludes
Drifting through pain, identity, and the quiet moments in between
“I’ve never been sadder,” she thought, unsure of how much truth was contained within those words.
Truth is, after all, conditioned by emotions and perceptions. Simple changes construct a reality of either joy or pain…
She seemed to be walking towards the latter. Each step would open a new stage of loss and disconnectedness, of confusion and loneliness.
Her sense of self seemed to fade, slowly vanishing within a sea of thoughts…
What is self, anyway?
Which part of the brain gets to decide who we are, or rather, how we perceive ourselves? How come self-identity is continuous and evolving for some, but for others fragmented, imperfect?
In her case, it seemed more like the second type. Her former self had become a stranger to her. Her own memories as foreign as fairy tales of a distant land. She’d sometimes wonder if those had been planted in her brain by some mysterious entity… That would help explain their unfamiliarity, at least.
But deep inside, she knew that this stranger was still her, or rather, who she had once been. She had been many, after all. Each version more fragmented than the previous.
