Hope born of solitus

*

12th August, Wednesday

From what I could gather, it seemed a lot had happened yesterday. Her experiences were recorded, without missing a beat. I thought the situation would have been awkward, but Arin only seemed to be more clingy than before. It doesn't help that she's the only one who knows about the amnesia.

Even then, she simply accepted it. The patient herself, every Lastia before her, didn't know how the amnesia originated either. Arin who was able to embrace such a fact without question, seemed far more impressive in that regard. She brought her chair closer, nearly squeezing and competing for the space on my table. It felt like the vein over my temple was about pop out, but I clench my jaw and smiled in silence.

In the end, I couldn't bring myself to admonish her or anything. Even as a blank slate who only had a single day to live, she managed to wedge herself into a special corner of my heart. Her short deep blue hair bounced softly against the air, her jewel like sapphire eyes gleamed brilliantly under the morning sun. Her smile was subtle yet refreshing.

" Come on, now. The teacher is about to come soon, you should go back to your seat." (Lastia)

"... Fine, but Tia, do you remember our words last night?" (Arin)

"... Haa~ I wrote them down." (Lastia)

Without giving a direct answer, I heaved out a sigh. She's persistent, I'll give her that. She sat nearby so it was fine. Class began and ended without anything major happening. Yet another day, I managed to uphold the image of Lastia. Due to the mixed circumstances of perfect photo memory and daily amnesia, I managed to get a perfect all around 80% for every test. It shot me high into the student rankings, but not at the top of the student cohort. Top of the class sure, but there are those that are still genuinely talented in other classes.

Well as long as it tides me over it's fine. speaking of which, I wonder if the other 'Lastia's thought about it? The future. What should we do after high school, what path should we take to have the most stable life? I've been surviving on funds from who knows where, every month it would be refilled, not that we can verify that but we could only put our faith into it. The fact that we don't have a part time job, yet never ran out of funds can attest to that.

We're still in the first year of high school, but having made it to August, it meant that we've survived for quite a long time despite the daily amnesia. Disregarding the odd nature of the amnesia, with how we retain the sensibilities and common sense of an adult or a disillusioned high schooled, it seemed that most of us spent frugally. Our spendings and savings are recorded in another diary on the same desk, the numbers only kept increasing because every one of us preferred to get free lunch with our meal tickets rather than spending anything at all.

With this lifestyle, Lastia doesn't even need to exercise. To put it bluntly, she might be a little underweight to slightly below average weight. I sat quietly in the middle of class, whoever chose this spot was a genius. Anyone would think that the middle spot was directly under the teacher's supervision, conversely because it was in plain sight, the teachers would let their guard down when it came to attending to students in this area. I wonder if any other Lastia contemplated about any of this, about the future.

Being the exact same blank slate as everyone else, I would assume that we go through life in exactly the same routine, living like a boring robot everyday. At least that must be how it looked like to other people. Strangely enough, I have a feeling that we live very different lives. We deviate due to a tiny modicum of additional information found in the diary, even without that information we might still live differently. After all, it's precisely because we have so little time that we pick drastically different activities to completely throw ourselves into. The diary is proof of that, holding such colourful experiences in spite of our dreary existence.

I exhaled deeply as my eyes focus onto the board. My once blurry peripherals sharpened as I read what was written. Huh, they're still at this chapter. The teacher always gives us an overarching plan to their lessons, telling us which chapters of the textbook that we're going over and when we go to the next chapter. Of course, this plan always falls apart and we go at a slower pace. These are mere notes, predictions written in my diary in an entry from a few months ago. Getting this far into the school year, naturally the teachers would forget their own plan as well, that wouldn't be an unnatural occurrence. Well, it makes things easier for me and the next 'me', so I shouldn't complain.

... I want to know... Who's a part of my family. What's my surname? How many relatives do I have? How long has it been since I've seen them? What did the other 'Lastia's like? How different were they from me? Was there one that ever made it past a single day? When did this curse start? Are all the other 'Lastia's also me, or are they they're own individuals? How much of this experience can be considered... Living?

My bedroom was surprisingly spacious. In front of my bed that was slightly larger than a single, was a plain wooden desk with a small round backless chair and a large mirror on the desk. On its varnished surface lay a nearly cluttered mess, covered in layers of sticky notes detailing random experiences in the past... Rather than not being able to fit these details into the diary, the past 'Lastia's must have just feared that they would be treated as 'normal'. These must have been thoroughly cherished by them.

On the same desk lay a few diaries, a couple textbooks stood neatly in a stack at the corner. The most conspicuous book in the centre was the main diary, to the right there was a smaller book holding the accounts of all my finances and changes made by previous 'Lastia's. Everyday 'I' read these books.... They weren't outright torn or damaged, but they somehow seemed really worn out. The diary's binder had become loose, the textbook covers were wrinkled.

Below lay a locked cabinet, one that I never bothered looking into. After all, keys were nowhere to be found... And I wouldn't have much time looking for them anyway.