He taps his pen against the desk, play work left abandoned.
Abandoned. It was a word he used so lightly, on the daily, merely as a synonym for "left"; forgotten, lost. But in truth, it meant so much more.
He had been abandoned, once. By his sister, though not of her own volition— all she could do was sit and hope. He didn't blame her for that.
By his parents, for much of the same reason. Who has time for their eldest when their youngest is suffering? Busy with hospital visits, work, and so-and-so. He isn't ungrateful, though, and he won't complain about it to them. They'll only say the same thing they've been saying for years— that it's hard, and they're trying their best. Empty apologies which he is much desensitized to, at this point.
More recently, he can think about how everyone who used to admire him abandoned him, too. He's not sure how being loud and outspoken went from him getting described as "courageous and strong" to him being "annoying and a burden", but there's no use trying to turn back now. He dug this grave of his fake persona for himself, after all. All he can do now is accept it— the snickering in the halls, the weird stares. He may as well embrace it, now he's found himself here.
Abandoned, left for dead. Ignored, forgotten, lost, gone forever, at the fault of someone else.
And now, his own self is abandoning him.
His childhood is much of a blur. Other than the hospital visits and some rather... unpleasant memories that have been dug up by this whole Sekai situation recently. Rui once said that if he didn't remember it it was probably for a good reason. It's annoying, though, because he's still terrified.
He may not remember what had happened then, but he knows it was bad, so he's okay with forgetting it. But he has to stop it from happening now, because there's nothing inherently bad in his life other than his own thoughts, which he should really be trying harder to stop. And yet, even though he tries so hard...
He can't remember what he ate yesterday. Or where he went a few weeks ago. Or why he had invited someone over once they arrived, unless he constantly reminded himself of it— and so on. The examples only continued to pile up from then. It's inevitable, he knows everyone forgets eventually, but—
It feels like he's stuck in the present. Not in the metaphorical way, but quite literally stuck there. Anytime he could do something that relayed to various days of work he remembered, he'd feel relieved. That's one of the lesser known reasons he likes acting. It's not something that just happens on the spot; there's planning and coordinating and rehearsing behind it, aside from brief improv.
But then, once he's out of the stage, he can't remember who cut the lights or who was the one that was following him into the changing room. And it scares him.
But he can't let anyone else know. God, no, he can't. If he let's anyone else know, they'll call him crazy. And he isn't. He isn't crazy. This memory loss can be normal, probably! In some situation. It's just... something that comes with being a world future star! Definitely. Probably. Right?
If he says what he thinks, what he feels... they'll leave him. And then they'll forget about him.
It's selfish, isn't it? He's sure someday this will escalate and he'll forget the people around him, and yet he wants others to remember him. To scar them and leave his mark in their life.
God.
He's such a walking tragedy.
So when he coughs up opium poppies and forget-me-nots in his bathroom sink, covered in blood, he does nothing more but to throw them away.
—
Forget-me-not flower: Tiny forget-me-not flowers have a special meaning in certain countries where they are often worn as symbols of remembrance and memory. They also represent true and eternal love in the form of never forgetting another in your thoughts.
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