Those Strange Spatiotemporal Spots

Weekly Diary Entry

As I walk towards where it happened, on that strange summer day, when all these dark feelings almost took me away from here (never to be seen again), an odd spot becomes increasingly visible. It’s one of those, isn’t it? It’s becoming more unavoidable by the second.

It consumes this area (as well as my mind)—all in one sweep; this street will never look the same to me, the way it did before, and this very spot is proof of it. My heart will always ache when I walk here, when I see it. When I think of them.

They say memories like these are naturally suppressed by the mind as time goes on, to protect the mind—as if shielding one’s soul from being sucked whole by the void of pain—but if this is true, why are these spots everywhere I look?

Why are they so vivid for me?

Why do they make me suffer this much?

And why don’t they ever go away?

This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.