[Redacted]
written by: Griffin
i discovered it by sheer accident one day
it started as a flash of something painful
my father’s voice on a Tuesday night
and i thought
no. i don’t want this
and it was gone. poof.
not gone like a fleeting memory
destined to return in the shower or at 3am
gone, like it never existed.
i laughed. actually laughed.
do you understand what this means, i thought
to hold your own mind in your hands
to edit yourself like you’d edit a draft
keep this, delete that.
i went through them all systematically
the cruelties and humiliations
the girl who cheated on me and acted like it was nothing
next of kin who mocked my potential
every little moment i was made to feel small
stupid
unlovable
insignificant
gone
what replaced it was space. clean, bright open space.
i felt lighter. like i had been Atlas himself carrying the heavens
and finally given release.
i still did not know what it would cost me.
one day, i felt cracks
someone mentioned something we’d done together
when i looked for it, i found nothing
just absence
i’d lose entire conversations i couldn’t account for.
events that felt half-real, half-fiction
like i had cut off a strip of film at the middle
and now the beginning and end didn’t match.
the deletions were meant to be clean. surgical.
but then i realised
nothing works that way.
everything i do or feel is a thread
you yank one out and the entire thing collapses
like a domino
i got rid of my father’s cruelty
but now i couldn’t remember why i don’t call him anymore
the pain was gone, but the reason for the pain also vanished
and i kept looking at this number in my phone
like it was a stranger’s.
it didn’t end there
i tried to recall a conversation with my mother as a boy
i only remembered the beginning
her voice, soft and warm
and then nothing. a deep void.
a friend (?) asked me how i was doing after “the heinous ordeal” i supposedly went through
i had no idea what she was talking about.
i was losing myself.
and it was too late to do anything else
the gaps just kept spreading
i’d stare at the mirror, only to find my own face unrecognisable
my therapist…or was it a doctor?
kept asking me questions i had no answer to:
“how are you feeling?”
“who are you?”
the last one made me laugh,
because i had no fucking idea.
mid-sentence, i’d lose my train of thought
start stringing sentences that made no sense
my sleeplessness got worse
my mind wouldn’t turn off
trapped between half-memories
unable to separate reality
from the falseness that tries to fill the gaps in said reality.
you want to know the worst part?
i don’t remember why i started all this
what pain i went through to make me think
i could “craft” myself into happiness.
now i feel simply as a story with no consensus
a “dead letter” sent without a destination.
- Redacted - October 3, 2026
- The Collector - July 24, 2026
- Statistics and Probabilities - April 28, 2026
