It was dark.
So dark.
Why was it so dark?
And wet.
Very wet.
Why was it so wet?
It was cold.
Really cold.
Why was it so cold?
Memories surfaced, only to be washed away.
By the darkness, by the wet, or maybe even by the cold.
A twitch.
A twitch of a limb.
Was it solid?
Was it real?
She didn't know.
To know.
What was that?
There was a longing.
A strong longing.
A longing to remember.
To remember what was outside the dark, and the wet, and the cold.
Drifting.
She was drifting.
Drifting through the dark, wet and cold.
Pink.
That was what was drifting.
She could see it, flowing around her.
The dark didn't take the pink.
Nor did the wet or the cold.
Was it part of the dark, wet and cold?
No.
It was different.
It was good.
Pink was good.
It meant good.
The dark, wet and cold wasn't good.
She didn't like the dark, wet and cold.
Drifting.
Drifting through the dark, wet and cold.
The pink was good, drifting through the bad.
Why was the pink good, but in the bad?
She didn't know.
Knowing was what she longed for.
To know why the pink was good, and why the dark, wet and cold was bad.
Another twitch.
It was real.
It wasn't part of the dark, wet and cold.
What was it that twitched?
It was near her.
No, it was her.
What was she?
Was she anything?
She didn't know.
She wanted to know.
What was outside of this dark, wet and cold?
Good was outside.
Outside the bad was good.
Why was she inside the bad, and not inside the good?
Was she bad?
No.
She was pink, and pink was good.
But why was she pink?
Why was the pink good?
So dark. Why was it so dark?
She was drifting.
Drifting in the wet.
Why was it so wet?
She shivered.
It was real.
The shiver was real.
The cold was real.
Why was it so cold?
She didn't know.
She wanted to know.
Memories weren't real.
But the dark, wet and cold was.
Why was she in it?
She was pink.
Pink was good.
What was good?
Good was happy.
Good was fun.
Laughing was good.
So why wasn't she laughing?
Why wasn't she having fun?
Why wasn't she happy?
Wasn't she good?
She was pink.
Pink was good.
But she was in the bad.
Good shouldn't be in the bad.
Why was she in the bad?
She didn't know.
Why didn't she know?
She tried to know.
But the knowing was gone.
It had once been there.
But now it was not.
Why was it not?
Drifting.
She was still drifting.
How long was she drifting?
She didn't know.
To know.
Knowing was a longing.
But knowing wasn't real.
Pink was real.
Dark, wet and cold was real.
Knowing wasn't real.
So why did she want to know so badly?
Because it was good.
But if she didn't know, was she bad?
No.
She was pink.
Pink was good.
But pink didn't know.
Pink only was.
Pink was what she saw in the dark, wet and cold.
Pink was the good in the bad.
Why was it in the bad?
It was good.
Her mind was drifting.
Drifting.
A twitch.
It was real.
But her mind wasn't.
Minds knew.
She didn't know.
The dark was wet.
The wet was cold.
The cold was dark.
Why?
What was the dark, wet and cold?
It was bad.
It washed her memories away.
But she had no memories.
Because she'd have to know.
And knowing wasn't real.
A twitch.
She had twitched.
It was real.
So she must be real.
And she was pink.
So she was good.
So why was she in the bad?
What had sent pink here?
Pink wasn't bad.
Why was she here?
She didn't know.
She was real.
But she didn't know.
She should know.
If she was real, she'd know!
But she didn't know.
And so she wasn't real.
But she twitched.
And she was pink.
She was real.
Her memories were washed away.
She tried to pull them back.
But it was dark, wet and cold.
Why was she in the dark, wet and cold?
Memories would know.
But she didn't know.
And memories weren't real.
So was knowing not real?
No.
Knowing was real.
She wouldn't long for something that wasn't real.
But why couldn't she know?
It was because of the dark, wet and cold.
It washed away the memories.
So she couldn't know.
She had to leave the dark, wet and cold.
But she couldn't.
She was drifting.
Through the dark, wet and cold.
But outside the dark, wet and cold, was the good.
The good was fun.
The good was happy.
The good had laughing.
So why was she in the bad?
Was it because she didn't know those things?
Was it because she didn't know fun, or happy, or even how to laugh?
But she should know.
She wished she knew.
Why was she here?
She didn't belong.
Because she was pink.
And pink was good.
But she was here.
Drifting.
But she shouldn't be.
She should be in the good, but she was in the bad.
The dark, wet and cold.
A twitch.
A movement.
She moved.
She was real.
She tried to get to the good.
But she was drifting.
And she didn't know.
Her mind wouldn't let her.
She wanted to know.
But she didn't know.
She needed to know.
Pink was good.
Good should know.
But she needed memories to know.
And those were washed away.
Because she was drifting.
It was dark.
So dark.
Why was it so dark?
And wet.
Very wet.
Why was it so wet?
It was cold.
Really cold.
Why was it so cold?
She didn't know.
Author's Note
This story took inspiration from https://www.fimfiction.net/story/261777/i-dont-know-if-im-real which is a much better story than mine, as well as the picture I used for the thumbnail of this story.
