#brain wipe

[zombbox]

I made them in the Sims... The fucking freaks....

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Ok but imagine being 16 years old but in your 21-23 year old body like that legit happened to Carmen

[paddedlittleparadise]

(Edited 11/14/2022 with Mature label and original image!)

Do you remember?

Do you remember, dear one? Is there anywhere in that sweet brain of yours some memory, some flicker of recognition? Can you recall, perhaps as if in a dream, even just one fleeting instant of your previous life with me?

Your empty eyes say no.

I gaze back into them, willing back the sting of tears. No, we have no time for useless tears: tears that can only upset your babyish new self. Perhaps somewhere inside you – deeper than consciousness, farther back than waking memory – some fragment of the old adult you sees me and is glad. Perhaps if I stayed here with you, caring for you with shaking hands and watching over you as the hours pass, perhaps I could bring you – the old you, the you I knew and loved – some well-deserved comfort.

I don't regret your decision, love. Not for one minute do I blame you, or feel that you chose wrongly, or that you took the coward's way out. No coward could ever bring themselves to do what you have done, dear. It takes courage to discard your adult life, to ask for help, to embark upon this radical new path.

"Hope for the hopeless," the psychologists call it now. "A way out." Not suicide, of course. No, this is suicide's polar opposite: to embrace life, to refuse to be satisfied with the hellish torments life has inflicted, to cling instead to the belief that life can be so much more than suffering. It can mean safety. Peace. Comfort. Love. All the beautiful things that a cruel world never granted you the first time. All the beautiful things that I, my dear, want for you with all my heart.

But perhaps I've erred. I teeter still here on the brink of indecision, caught between my longing to protect you and this overpowering urge to join you in your infantile new world. Every day now since your return I see the innocent, mindless joys you now experience: the ineffable comfort of a fresh diaper, and a warm bottle, and the touch of a caring hand. And you know… I envy you. Not only for those things, but because you – unlike me – are no longer plagued by regret, and doubt, and the ponderous weight of thousands of memories…

Yes, I envy you, my dear. And when you gaze dumbly back like that into my moistening eyes, I feel my resolve melting away, trickling away as quietly and steadily as the warm flow that probably even now is saturating that fresh diaper of yours. Yes, I think. Perhaps I should. The doctors know what to do. They know what chemicals to use, what mind-altering changes are needed. There are people to take care of us both, I'm sure. Yes, perhaps I will. Perhaps…

But still I pause. And I wonder. Is it true that you remember… nothing?

Though even as I ask, I scarcely know what I hope the answer to be. For is it better to remember the past and all of its horrors and beauties? Or should one forget everything – seeking instead the unthinking, innocent oblivion of infancy?

As you mew and rustle in your crib, a creeping infant in a woman's body, I am no closer to a decision than before. But still you gaze up at me with eyes that are yours and yet are not… and I gaze helplessly back, a greying fossil in the bright, unknowing world of your newfound innocence…

Image Credit: @abdreams

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