An Awkward Start

I… my first word is I? How should I start? Always the most difficult; starting. Begin right away? My mind isn’t linear, my memory is fragmented. This is difficult. Stupid hands, or is it stupid brain? I am—my fingers are incomplete, bony, literally fleshless even. Strange that. And…? I felt the sun on my skin. Felt. I hadn’t felt anything in so long that I had almost forgotten that my body could feel. Did it start with the sun on my skin? Let’s say that it was a bird. I like that. A bird landed on my shoulder. Familiar. "Did birds usually land on me?" I thought. Yes, I did think a thought, and yes, the sun was shining. "I am seeing the sunlight?" I thought, again my own. The bird hopped up to the top of my head, then chirped out into the forest. A chirp responded from somewhere within the scramble of branches that hung around my head. A whistle, tweet, chirp, then the bird was off. My beginning. Might be, but do I doubt it? Tomorrow will my beginning remain the same, or will I remember it differently? Everything is a menagerie of thoughts and sensations and memories, but now that I have written this there exists a record. My beginning is now set, truth or not.

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