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I am learning that I am not actually forgetful. Instead, it appears I am one of few people who truly remembers things. Through notes, videos, writings, I can confirm the past is as I remember it, and I remember it vividly. When talking to others, they seem to have a general and common misunderstanding of events. A rolling amnesia. Proving myself correct holds little value and changes no minds. What felt like intentional gas lighting now seems to be a genuine forgetfulness of reality, and adamant adhere to it. In the end, it leaves me feeling insane. Alone in a world, where I can prove what I'm saying, but am generally dismissed by all. Even if I were to get this message to someone, because I have at times with several individuals, by the next day they remember only the vaguest idea of it. A few days go by. Then nothing at all. I remain utterly alone. With the burden of being aware of it.
The narrator grapples with a profound sense of isolation, realizing they possess vivid memories while others seem to forget. Despite attempts to validate their experiences, they feel dismissed and alone, burdened by awareness.