I thought losing my memory was the worst thing in the world. Forgetting who you are, and where you came from was like driving on a road with only right turns. All leading in the same direction. A direction I wanted to avoid, a dark tunnel that I had to enter if I ever wanted answers.
Losing my memory wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Learning, who I was, and the secrets I had kept was way worse. The unbearable pull and the passion we shared, mixed with the past that I didn’t want to remember, created a whole new storm. The perfect storm of two kinds of crazy. Stupid little fish.