Dear Lylith,
Forgive me. I’ve forgotten your face, but I remember your name and that I love you.
Things have gone well for us until now, wouldn’t you agree? Well, looks like I messed up the streak. I got sick. I caught the Decay, Lylith. Since it’s now unashamedly wiping my mind, I constantly rummage in the toy box of my memories, trying to see what’s not gone yet. And most of what remains is you…
I’m sitting at a table in the canteen while I write this, and the food here is excellent. You’ve always been a foodie. You would try a different dish every time we ate out, unlike me, who always defaulted to a burger. Anyway, this isn’t your typical hospital. It appears top-secret government facilities have excellent cooks, and we, in quarantine, benefit from it, too. Well, at least as long as our bodies remember how to chew and swallow. Although from what I observed so far, table manners seem to be the first to be forgotten.
Some woman is looking over my shoulder, and she is not a doctor. Doctors don’t dare enter anymore until it’s clear how the disease spreads. Maybe it’s you? I don’t remember if we got sick together. I wanted to greet her, but she is gone now, and I can’t remember how to talk, anyway. It’s funny… My head is a zoo of words, a riot of buzzing, bumbling simian chatter. And though my hand remembers the motions of writing, my tongue has forgotten how to speak.
Doctors, when they still visited, explained that once the Decay sets following its incubation, all your memories and instincts vanish within hours, or even minutes. You’d claim my memory was so poor already that the Decay could go on a lunch break rather than bothering with me. And then you’d watch me struggle for air, gasping and wheezing, like a forgotten kettle, as I failed to remember how to breathe, and you’d feel guilty about your joke. But that’s what I adore about you - your innocence coupled with your surprisingly sharp wit and appreciation for dark humour.
I took a minute to rest my writing hand, and now I notice how much emptier my head has suddenly become. If you blew into my left ear, the air would whistle through my right. Through my right. On the right-hand side, you can see the collapse of the human world as we know it. Stop. Sorry. I lost the train of thought and went to the jungle to find it. I mean, what? Wait.
Tried reading what I wrote but letters dance.
cannot write more struggle to write straight.
happy you were
!! i love you lylith loveyou .. my lylith
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