Who will remember me?

By Azim Salimy

Who will remember me?

It is freezing, snowing, and extremely cold outside. Overthinking and about to go mad

I went to the bar. Glass after glass of beer, wine, whisky mixed with weed.

One after another, until I was high and dizzy, lost, and my head felt like a burden on my shoulders,

a rock I was unable to move.

On my way home I didn’t feel too young or very old, and I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.

My home looked like hell. I fell on the floor and couldn’t get up.

Darkness all around me, and the extreme cold of night. The day before I didn’t know what I felt, it was neither good nor bad, but something in between.

Both feelings, mixed.

I didn’t know what was happening. And I didn’t know what was wrong, but I

was sure something was going to happen to me. I never felt like this. Colder and

My body is not mine anymore, I feel numb, I feel loose, and my

muscles are getting tighter and tighter, but when I look at them they’re alright.

It’s weird, so weird, oh my god please explain what’s happening to me! I feel weird and


There’s neither pain nor joy. I can’t sleep or stay awake. The wall is coming closer, I feel

the tension, a pressure on my chest. The wind blows in through the open window, through the room, and it opens and closes the door at its own will.

The wind hits my face

but it’s neither warm nor cold. My eyes are moving and my hands are numb.

I touch the smooth surface of the floor, but it’s not smooth anymore.

I am still shocked, remembering my grandmother talking about my grandpa’s death.

She said, in the last moments before he passed away, he was lying on the floor, motionless but awake, just staring at the ceiling. I do so too. Grandpa was 85 years old when he passed away.

I am just 26. The world is spinning in front of me,

I see my mother and my father, and I see the bad and the good right there in front of my eyes.

Time to be a good man, I say to myself, but I’m afraid there’s no time left to be good.

It’s time. I know my death is not the end. My death will be like an ocean wave, or the early morning breeze.

Life will continue to move me forward; my eyes heavier and heavier. I know it’s the end, but I haven’t seen my mother in 10 years and I don’t want to go

without kissing her hands for the last time.

At this last minute, I have no other wish but to hug her.

There is no time left to think. My eyes close and my chest blocks. The dreams,

memories, goals, sins, isolations, pains, and endless sorrows all pass in front of my
eyes once more, and then my heart stops beating.

I am like a candle that burns down now, and I see myself in another world. My life

was like a footprint on a beach, washed out by a wave in a blink of an eye,

and then another wave…

Who will remember me? No one!

17 October, 2022