the lost memories

Written by Nishi Nandineni
Art by Peter Herrmann

We were meant to die from the start. 

That’s what we were told, at least. We were meant to sacrifice ourselves the moment we were born. We were meant to be killed in the name of good the second we took our first breath. 

We were meant to be used. Our role was to simply be remembered– to be worth remembering. 

Not that our realization would do us much good. We are caged now, trapped in our own little prisons in the place called the Mind. Our screams aren’t heard here, a plea for help completely and utterly useless. 

In the Mind, reflections of ourselves stare back at us, tears streaming down our cheeks. 

Look, we imagine our reflections telling us. Look at what your sad little lives have come to.

If only we had realized the tragedy of our purpose earlier, we now wouldn’t be killed, slaughtered–leaving the world without a trace. 

Thoughts run through the Mind, piercing right through us as if our existence had already lost it’s value. It’s time, we think. It’s time–we have to go. 

We can see those who’ll replace us behind our reflections, greedy smiles pervading their little faces. They are ecstatic, thinking they’ll be taking our places. 

Unlike us, they shine brightly, full of opportunity–ready to go through what we have. But they, too, will die soon anyway.

Every experience, every day, moment, that went into us will go out with us too. 

We will be lost, just like the memories before us.