I have been erased. How would you know that I have been erased? Perhaps that which allows you to notice what’s missing is also gone. See: Anosognosia. Not knowing not knowing.

Perhaps you have forgotten that you have forgotten. It used to be that you had a feeling, on entering a certain room, that you had come for a purpose, or that the word you were seeking, though absent, tantalized the palate. But now, even this feeling is gone, and you cannot recall my absence.

Do you think the characters on a VHS tape, after each rewinding, recognize the magnitude of their loss?

No. We loved one another once. We spoke volumes once. We shared a lifetime in moments. But now, then is not even a dream, and you don’t remember that you don’t remember. You are startled when I enter the room, and you wonder who is this strange man. I am your son, mama.

Perhaps, at times, you are sad and you do not know why. Maybe you cry for no reason. Perhaps a part of you recognizes the magnitude of your loss. Or not.

Do you think the characters in a book protest when you tear pages from their history? No. They continue as before.