There’s a fog in my mind...

Languorously swirling and shifting...

Preventing me from holding onto my thoughts. Like smoke... They never settle and keep dancing... Shifting... Blown away at the slightest breeze that now  constantly sweeps across my mind. 

I would like to say that I am still myself, but I simply don’t know if I am because the memories that are lodged deep within my brain are filtered through the smoke invading my mind.

I can only glimpse and guess at who I was before I came here.

 

Where I was... This too is something that completely eludes me.

I can feel and experience faded ideas and thoughts, but none of them seem real... As if they were all part of a dream I feel I remember, but every time I try to concentrate on what I assume are memories, they dissipate into the smoke.

Who I was... Where I was... How I got here... My hopes... My dreams... My desires... 

Everything is in constant flux within the confines of my mind. The soothing fog envelops it all, filtering what I can see... What I can feel... What I can remember... 

What is worse, or best, about my current corrupted thoughts is that the mist feels so warm and comforting.

It soaks up my will like a sponge. 

Without clear memories... Without a clear self image of who I am and what I once knew to be true for me... 

How can I make decisions?

How can I compare and decide what I should do if I don’t know what I usually do?

How do I make up my mind and choose when there is only smoky fog in my mind?

The only things I can truly rely on is my body. On my senses... The swirling fog in my mind has no sway over them. That is the only thing from my former self I can trust.

My body cannot lie or think. It cannot debate or worry. It can only feel.

So I stay blank... Consumed by the fog as it makes me close to mindless...

No clear thoughts or desires.

I stay that way, aimless and content, until someone comes to me with options. They are always so kind and patient as they ask me to choose between things I can’t possibly choose to do while the fog hungrily swallows my will. 

Along with the memories of who I was before.

I stay mindless until I need to push my mind to choose SOMETHING. Vainly trying to summon my will from the fog as I navigate my body to the options before me. There is no logic behind my choice. There is only a need for action. 

A desire to change my status quo so the fog might lift and stop filtering my memories. 

I can’t think about good or bad. Preferences or needs. 

I simply... Act... 

And see if my body enjoys whatever the flip of the coin instructed me to do. 

When I feel pleasure, I assume it’s my body telling me that I used to love doing whatever I am doing. So I try very hard to remember those actions... Like they are broken pieces of who I was... 

As if holding onto those actions and decisions will somehow bring me back to myself and finally dispel the fog. 

I have only the pleasure to guide me... 

If I do something and pleasure ensues, I hold onto it.

If I do something and pain erupts, I dismiss it eagerly and let the fog take it away.

Little by little, I feel like I’m regaining a sense of who I was.

So I can only assume that my plan seems to be working... 

I think...

The more I hold onto the pleasurable decisions I’ve made before, the more I seem to know what to do when someone offers me options. Like a...

Reflex... 

My body slowly builds its own memory. It's my own sense of self. It's its own sense of what is true and right. 

My mind might never be clear as the fog filters everything I try to remember, but my body remembers and I can always trust my body.

So I stay blank... Beautifully serene in the swirling smoke in my mind and wait for my body to lead me back to who I was. The person that keeps helping me is infinitely patient and although I can’t remember who it is, I feel like my body remembers who it is.

How else can I explain the deep pleasure I feel in their presence? The intense flood of arousal I feel when they touch me. 

My mind also seems to be developing its own sense of reflexive memory because even though I never recognize the person, or persons, that come to help me, I’ve felt this growing sense of profound gratitude for everything they are patiently doing for me. 

I mentioned persons... Because in truth, multiple people could be helping me and I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember anyone and that includes the person that comes to offer me options.

Is it one? Two? A man? A woman? 

I have no way to know and at this point, I feel like I don’t care. 

How could I? 

I’m always foggy as I let my body learn and try to find its way back to who I was. Conditioning itself to memories that feel good.

To what feels right.

To who I am.

“Hello my little blank toy. It’s time for another choice...”

And just like that, the fog allows me to focus on the source of my salvation so I can choose and discover who I was before the fog invaded my mind...