Canary. – QoTW #21

…
I've been planning to do this for a while, but I'm so lazy.
…
-is trying not to copy Zhlink-

My condition is wavering. Some days, I barely notice it, and some days, I have 3, maybe 4 blackouts. They come and go, and although it doesn't physically hurt my brain as much, the consequences remain ever so dire.

It's like a little canary sitting on my shoulder, black, with silver streaks, yellow eyes. It stays there all day, every day. When I'm sleeping, it sits atop my head and falls onto it's knees, snoozing. Warping my dreams, fabricating lies. When I talk, the canary pecks at me, bites my ear, a little buzzing in my head.

The canary made me forget about chopsticks.

Chopsticks

Define: Chopsticks are small tapered sticks used in pairs of equal length as the traditional eating utensils of China, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and Vietnam. Generally believed to have originated in ancient China, they can also be found in some areas of Tibet and Nepal that are close to Han Chinese populations. Chopsticks are most commonly made of bamboo or plastic, but are also made of metal, bone, ivory, and various types of wood. The pair of sticks is maneuvered in one hand, between the thumb and fingers, and used to pick up pieces of food.

Memories: Poking myself with one in the eye when I was 4, my sister chewing on one during a road trip, my mom giving my sister a small set of white chopsticks that she carried around everywhere for almost a month..

The canary is blind. It feels about with it's other senses, heightened abilities. It takes me over, possesses me. I will be existing there, and it's eyes will turn a brilliant, flourished red. And then, I wake up.

"Pirithivi..your brain handles memories like a huge filing system. When you lose one part, it's seeds contain in other files are also destroyed, fragmenting your memory."

"I love you too, Doc."

It picks at my flesh, my shoulder is bruised. Every blackout is like a dream, or in better words, a horrific nightmare. Amnesia comes and goes like a pendulum on the old grandfather clock, rusted, gray, speckled with time. Lies are spewn forth from the canary's beak, through my ear, from my mouth.

If there was only one thing you could change about yourself, what would it be and why?

I cannot change what I am. I cannot hope to erase my past, my horrific memories, my twisted thoughts. I cannot dwell on the basis that I may wake up one morning, and not remember my sister. I can, however, be.

If I were so blessed with a single wish, it would be for the canary to fly away.

~Pir <3