I know I once had a reason, a reason to get somewhere that I cannot remember today. Today I do not have the motive, only the impulse, the anxiety, and the fear. What body is this, which my soul dresses? This strange body that moves with me, but of which I do not recognize the texture, or the voice? Ah! How it limits and tires me! This body has needs that have nothing to do with what I want. My God, why is it so slow? Why is it so weak? I feel I’m losing things, but I do not remember what or why. I feel that I am different, but I cannot understand yet how I am different. If only I remembered how I was yesterday!
Not long ago, I lost my privacy. The window to the other room wrests it from me. There I can see a man who seems familiar and with whom I talk every day. I do not know why he dresses like me and I do not know why his room looks like mine. I have asked, but he does not talk much.
Or maybe he speaks, but just when I want to speak, and then he shuts up whenever I stop speaking. I have invited him to my room to talk, but he never comes. And now I am tired of waiting for him. Every time I reproach him, he just repeats my words, and at the end he nods as I do. I know that I have seen him, but today I do not remember where. He does not tell me and I no longer ask him.
My hours go by fast. Morning becomes night so quickly, and I do not understand why it happens without me seeing the day. Or maybe I live through it and do not remember? Or maybe it is always night in this room.
My grandchildren no longer visit me. Actually my only visits are men and women who call me Grandpa... but where are the kids? I ask them this question, and these strangers just look at me sadly. My grandchildren do not visit me anymore; something bad must have happened to them. I’m sure of that, but nobody seems to care about it.
You know something? My wife is my whole life, but even she does not visit me anymore. Only this sad woman who says she loves me is by my side. What would my wife think if she knew of her visits? I avoid her, but that woman always tries to be by my side. She tells me not to speak with the mirror. As if there were one here! What she calls a mirror is the window to the other room, where the man with a familiar face lives. I am proud of my children.
They are all professionals and have been married, but no one ever comes to see me. Maybe they got upset with me when I threw out of this room all those strangers who came with the sad woman. I do not remember the last time I saw my children and I miss them so much! Just as I miss my wife. I do not understand why they do not come to see me as before, when they brought my grandchildren to play with me.
God! It’s too late! I have to go now. It is that uneasiness again. No one helps me to look suitable. This body does not help and the strangers do not either. They say that I need to rest. But I have so much to do! If only I remembered what it was! I just know that a while ago I had the same fear that I feel at this very moment, that among so many people who could visit me, the only one coming is Mr. Alzheimer, who according to these strangers, is slowly turning my life off.
