text: I felt the little shafts of light making their way passed the trees, and through the window doing their best to greet me. The warmth goes unappreciated as I try my best to collect myself. I’m still being pulled to go back to whatever dream I just woke up from. Wherever I was it has to be better enough than waking up, or maybe just so I could stay just a little bit longer. Every morning is this same little ritual, confused as to why I’m here just long enough to be disappointed. Little reminders of things I knew, but didn’t think about it long enough to remember. I don’t remember things like everyone else does, or at least mostly everyone. Tempus Syndrome is what it’s been explained to me as. I can only hold so much in my head before my mind decides what’s important, and what can be left out. Not being able to remember phone numbers, not being able to remember names of people I met at parties a month ago, what shirt I wore a week ago, and even what I had to eat for lunch three days ago. I can try and sift through it all, recall little notes and flags in my head to get back there. Sometimes I can do it, other times I just get frustrated. There’s at least a few things I can remember for good, my name, my family, how old I am, how tall I am, what my home looks like. Little things that keep me here, at least I know who I am. Other things I know is I can’t work, I’m a burden on my family, and I’m going to die someday. I wouldn’t be able to write everything I remember, because even then I’d forget things while I was writing it. I was asked to write this out to help explain what Tempus Syndrome feels like. It’s fucking awful. I feel like I’m floating in my own head living moment to moment. Everything around me is permanent, this little story will have more permanence than my entire life. You just have to read it once, and it’s with you forever. I have to reread something, write it down, and read it again later to remember it longer than a couple weeks at best. It’s only going to get worse, already most of my life is just blurry. More of my life is forgotten than remembered. At least I have that one grace, I sometimes forget what my life has been. I’ve had conversations over the years where people tell me I acted a certain way, said things from years ago. I can piece it together enough to know I was there, but honestly I just agree with whatever anyone tells me. I’m waiting for them to fix me, maybe I won’t be able to recall everything from my life, but at least being able to remember my dreams. Remember if they really are worth not waking up from, or if I should just appreciate the morning light.