Lost

                    The sun beams down on me, scalding my skin with the intensity of its scorching rays: my lips are parched, my heartbeat is loud, repetitive, and scarily clear in my ears, and each step is torturous, the weight of my weak body sinking into the malleable gold.
  This gold is not valuable though; it is sand, its colour rich with the light of the sun. My clothes are tattered and hang off me like rags; my body has never felt so pathetic, so vulnerable.
  I do not remember why I am walking in this desert, and I do not remember how long. I do not know why I am still, the moments disappear from my consciousness so quickly that I do not have the time to grasp hold of them, to keep them in my mind long enough to create some sense out of my situation. All is lost, though I do not know what it is that I have lost.
  This hole in my memory has almost become a part of me, a part of my voyage across this vast expanse of nothing. How strange it is, to be all-alone, and not have your memories to comfort you.
  I know when something has happened, something consequential, only when I feel a flicker in the deepest areas of my psyche. Those drive me insane, it leaves me with an excruciating longing to complete who I am. For without my memories, I am nothing: I am lost in space and time, an unimportant piece of the puzzle, an extra, unnecessary pigment on a canvas.
    The ground is so uneven beneath my feet; it is unpleasant having to add more energy to each step when you feel so weak.
  Another flicker. I’m still walking. The sun continues to batter me mercilessly. Another flicker. My lost memories provoke dry tears in my burning eyes.
  I push the hair from my face. To me it has always been long and straggly, yet the sensation of running my fingers through the greasy strands is unfamiliar. I hate these lost memories that continue to torment me, giving me images of what is supposedly normal.
  Another flicker. I fall to the ground.  It’s the first change in the monotony of my struggle across the sandy plains. The feeling of burning sand against the raw skin of my knees and elbows triggers a thought, a memory: pain, is that the word? Is that the word for physical suffering, discomfort? A vague memory flashes before my eyes: kneeling on salt in a dark kitchen.
  As soon as it appears, it disappears once again. Another memory lost. In a moment I will not even remember remembering it. I scream into the vast emptiness, my soul crying for my lost memories.
  The desert envelops my senses, my fall to the ground is the beginning of my end. Will I remember dying?