[ WP ] All my life I had been fascinated with the memories I can recall that were n't my own .

`` Though I know it's not truly me, it feels like I am looking in a mirror. I look at him unblinking and my reflection looks right back. He is clearly vexed with his furrowed brow. He sits down in an uncomfortable-looking plastic armchair in the corner of the room. 
 
 The muffled sound of a television bleeds into the room. My roommate pays it no mind. In fact, he does n't seem to be mindful of anything when I look at him. Just lost in thought, arms akimbo and legs crossed in that stupid armchair. 
 
 He is dressed comfortably; a grey sweatshirt tops a faded pair of blue jeans. A clock is ticking in the room, keeping asynchronous rhythm with the television. 
 
 I am about to get up when the man jumps up and walks over to me. Brow furrowed, he seems like he is about to box my ears. Instead my view lurches backward as he pulls something out from behind my head. A fluorescent light is above me and I ca n't squint to see the familiar man's buzz-cut or his hazel eyes as shadows hide his face. A splash on my cheek and a large shadow passes over my face. I'm suffocating in the folds of a large shadow. It is just then that I know I can not move. It is then that I know I will surely die. `` 
 
 `` You pulled the plug, you did n't smother him with a pillow.'' 
 
 `` Why does my mind insist on remembering it that way?'' 
 
 `` You ca n't spend the rest of your life consumed by a memory that is n't even your own. Your Dad would understand'' 

