I still feel horrible about my sister's death. There isn't going to be a funeral until the investigation is done. In the meantime, I've decided to take my mind off things by getting some things off my chest. I haven't been entirely honest with you.
First of all, that dream I had. That black dog...was somehow familiar to me. I didn't say anything yesterday because it seemed like if I admitted to knowing that dog in some way, some negativity would come of it. Like you would become suspicious of me.
I don't know why.
Well, in addition to this, I was an orphan throughout my childhood. At least, I believe so. I can't remember anything before the age of 13, at which time I had recently been adopted from an orphanage. That's right, my sister wasn't really my sister and my surname isn't my real surname. I don't know my proper last name.
Part of the reason I chose the moniker "The Nameless One," I suppose.
One time at the local library a couple years later I saw an old man wearing sunglasses. He asked me to sign his book. I thought maybe he's mentally ill and having people sign his book is some sort of meaningful thing to him. Maybe he thought I was a celebrity. In any case, I signed that book. And that's when my amnesia began.
If that dog was part of my past, it must have been during my childhood, in one of the memories I don't have anymore.
If these things I've been seeing are real, what do they want with me? And if they're not...should I see a psychologist? What do you readers (if there are any) think?
I don't know what to do. And I have no one to lean on in this time of need.
I feel cold.
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