I found one of my old journals (I used to keep multiple journals ongoing at the same time, writing on random ones depending on my mood). A name popped up and caught my attention.
“I am a pathetic and pitiful man. I didn’t realize it before, but I liked Marie so much. Even though I still doubt if it was just another moment of lust, I can’t help but think of her all the time.”
“It is starting to get tiring. Our relationship is based entirely on intriguing and guess works. Push each other away and draw each other back. I enjoyed that mind game, but what do you even call it?”
“Thinking of starting a project for Maries. It could be fun. I really like to play game, don’t I?
“Marie contacted me today. How long has it been? Almost one year.”
“Marie sucked.”
“Yesterday was Marie’s birthday. Had I followed my original plan, we would spend the day together. Oh, well. Why did she want to be with me on her special day? Aren’t we just friends now?”
Everything seemed sweet and nice and full of spring spirit.
Except…
I have zero recollection of who the heck Marie is… Marie isn’t even a common name.
It might have been 10 years ago, and I have always been terrible with names. But this was a girl I went out with at least a few times. And it was over a year.
There seemed to be a terrible ending. But… but… I usually think that most my relationships ended in a rather amicable way, except for maybe two…
Did my memory pull a full Memento on me? Did I mutate the super ability to remember just what I want to? That’s borderline imbalanced.
Maybe I am actually awesome?
And at the end of the day… who the heck is Marie?