loss

He began to think about his days, which had followed one another endlessly, monotonously, and boringly. A mix of things: listening to music, watching a Toyota TV, but these things couldn't replace a living human being. Someone to talk to, agree with, or disagree with; someone whose voice would break the oppressive silence around him, making him feel human, not like a lifeless piece of furniture that didn't yearn for life. Suddenly, it occurred to him: why not ask their old friends about her? But if he found her, would she be ready to meet him after all these years, in her entirety? Hadn't she said that the word "human" had something to do with the word "Sian"? He hadn't forgotten her, but he had chosen to forget her after what had happened, and that was the worst part. One doesn't constantly acknowledge what one forgets; forgetting can have many causes, whether one is aware of them or not. And after forgetting, it is done with full will and awareness. His past prickled him, his conscience pricked him. He began to reflect on his days, which had been consecutive, empty, repetitive, and boring. He read, listened to music, watched television, but none of it could replace the presence of another living human being. Someone to talk to, agree with, or disagree with; someone whose voice pierced the oppressive silence surrounding him, making him feel human, not just an inanimate object, devoid of life, yearning for a sense of vitality. Suddenly, an idea struck him: why not ask their old friends about her? But even if he found her, would she be ready to meet him after all these years? Hadn't she been the one who said that forgetting is part of human nature? He hadn't forgotten her; he had left her behind after what had happened, and that was worse. One isn't always responsible for what one forgets; forgetting can have many causes, whether intentional or not. But leaving someone or something behind is always a deliberate act, a conscious choice. Memories of the past haunted him, and his conscience prickled him.