Memories

My younger brother suffers from many mental ailments, to the extent that he must be reminded to eat, bathe and do various other tasks that the average child, let alone adult, can remember to do. This evening he said this to me "It doesn't make sense when people get into such desperate states, soon they won't remember what the problems were anyway" to which my response was "Some times it is not easy to live with painful thoughts" He looked at me puzzled and went down stairs, a few moments later he came back and asked if I would allow him into the room, I replied "yes" He sat across from me in this room, shrouded in darkness with only the illumination of my laptop casting light upon the far wall, he spoke again "How does it work to remember things?" I was perplexed by the question, my reply was a reflection of my confusion "What do you mean?" He explained himself "Well, what is it like to always remember stuff, like what happens if you remember sucky things? How long do you think about them, how long can you remember them?" The question was simple enough, though it is almost like asking somebody what it is like to breathe. I answered "That all depends upon the memory, some fade within hours, put out of mind but not memory, others days...Then the really bad ones, they stay for years, some wounds never heal" He was silent for a brief period and then he stood up and said "Wow, that sucks...Anyway. I'm off to bed. See ya man" and with that he retired to his room.

It bought up memories of my friends asking me what it felt like to face death and then I was reminded of the bird I once killed. About two years ago I was walking home from a friends house at around 4AM, I came toward my parents house and sitting in the middle of the path was my cat. He was standing guard over a bird he had downed, other cats were prowling around, all at a fair distance from him.
The bird was about seven inches long and relatively small, Neko loomed over it ominously. I watched him for a while, every time the bird would make a noise, or try to get onto its feet, Neko would hammer his paw down onto it, he seemed to enjoy beating the bird. He made no attempt to claw or bite the creature, he just beat it around with his paws and occasionally tossed it up into the air, watching as it thudded onto the concrete slabs, each impact it took made the bird cry out in a feeble chirp. At this point I remembered my uncle once stepping on a bumblebee that was crawling slowly across the floor, my mother berated him and he turned to her and simply said "I am putting it out of its misery" I had watched Neko long enough, I decided to kill the bird, it would be simple, I had a kubotan on my keyring and a swift strike would kill the creature. I hit the bird on the head, it did not die, it let out a pathetic sound and twitched awkwardly, I had hoped to end its suffering, not add to it. The second strike was enough, the creature was left crushed and broken, Neko stared up at me with what seemed to be, the closest look of confusion a cat could manage, he glanced at the bird one more time and simply walked away, what use was a broken toy?