for the contest , 440 words

It’s over. I’m going to die soon. I have no recollection of my past, I don’t remember the people in my life, or why I’m going to die. I remember nothing.
Red, blue, yellow and green. The colors are the only thing filling my brain. As the moths fly back and forth through my head, the colors blend in the air, taking me back to a childhood I don’t remember. The girl with the glazed over eyes. She always had a few of those moths flying around her.
If she had grown up, perhaps she would have become one of those people in my life. I can imagine it perfectly. She might have been an actress. Maybe her name was Jane. Maybe she would have been on the stage, sitting on a wooden chair in dim lighting the first time I saw her. Maybe I would think she had the innocent face of a saint. Maybe that would be my undoing.
Despite what they think, I can still hear. The hospital gurney as a maid walks by my room. the sound of music coming from a radio some nurse has turned on. Which, is about the only thing endurable in my current state.
Maybe I was a pianist. Maybe I was the one playing the music on the radio. That could well be the reason I was there to see Jane’s act in the first place. We probably went to the same university. And she would come to see me play. And I would sit straight in front of the piano and frown as my fingers move across the key board relentlessly. She would clap for me. We would start dating, we might even get married. She with the glazed over eyes and I with my restless fingers and deep frown. seems doomed from the start.
I should stop right there. Before everything gets ruined. Maybe I should change the scenario. Or the characters. But when the day comes when they’re going to cut the machines off, I want someone to be there. Her face would be covered in tiny lines. She might even let a tear slip as she thinks about our past together.
It’s a strange thought. Thinking about a past that hasn’t happened in a future that doesn’t exist.
It’s over. I’m going to die soon. I have no recollection of my past, I don’t remember the people in my life, or why I’m going to die. I remember nothing. But in the stillness of the room, one thought terrifies me: I want to have lived before they cut off my life, Even if in my own head.