Today I found an old letter I wrote among my various writings. I'm certain it wasn't there before, and I don't remember writing it.
But the words are mine. They're in my handwriting. Not my current handrwiting. My old handwriting. My real handwriting. I've sent myself a message.
Here it is.
I'm scared to start writing. I write to forget.
But what will I become when all is forgotten?
What will I be when I am reborn?
Truth vanishes before memories.
