Perhaps, Perhaps Not.

Perhaps, I want to remember that which I lost.

I didn’t forget my life. I only forgot who stole it and when and how.

Perhaps the thief discovered a secret coven of investors desiring of what I accomplished or how I accomplished, auctioned in part, or in whole. The purchase price would determine my life’s value. I would be portioned, metered, packaged, and presented.

All without me knowing the final outcome.

Perhaps, I could confront my quandary with an appearance to the exact location of the auction.

Perhaps, I could participate in the repurchase of my life.

I could bid vigorously for the complete set of missing years. I have the finances for such an endeavor. My only real expense would be the time it took to complete such an activity.

Yet, what if another life, adorned with sexy details, came up for bid first?

What if I stretched the value of my resources to invest heavily in the latter, and not the former? Would I have buyer’s remorse in the morning? Would the memories of my “new” old life find a compatible fit among the dusty (and now empty) bookshelves of my previous existence?

How do I even know if even one of my choices includes my previous existence?

At this point, would I even care if it didn’t?

Perhaps, I want to remember that which I lost.

Perhaps not.