Begonia. My name is Begonia. It's so ridiculous I can remember it even here. To call my parents hippies is an understatement, at least when I was born. They didn't want to go to a hospital, oh no, they had to have a home birth. And they decided to name me after the first flower my mother saw when I was born. Rose or Violet or Lavender are perfectly reasonable names, and they did have a nice garden, but there happened to be some boy biking past the window with an armful of begonias just as I came sliding out. At least they hadn't decided it would be the first plant. There's an herb garden in the front yard. I could have been named parsley.
And so my name is Begonia. See, my parents go through these phases. When I was five, it was superhygenic; the whole house pristine and sterilized, probably to make up for the whole hippie fiasco. And then they were enamored of technology... no, wait, the acting was before that. It's hard to remember all of the different ones anymore, but I do remember that when I was in grade school I was teased because my parents were so crazy and
My name is Begonia. The more recent stuff was the first to go. College. I went to a college, but all I can recall are long hallways filled with students making or stopping to chat, to the general irritation of those in a hurry. Or was that high school? No, it must have been college; the vaulted ceilings and nice floors contrast with the foam above and shining linoleum below that the words "high school" conjure up. A lot of the time it's hard to tell, though. For every one thing I can remember, there are four that I've lost to the murky depths of my own ever crumbling mind or maybe leeched out by these horrible white walls.
My name is Begonia. That's something I know, as well as the basic facts; colors, letters, numbers, the names of states even. But anything personal, anything specific to me is slipping away faster and faster. So I start with the basics.
My name is Begonia because my parents were hippies. I went to Green Valley Middle school, but that was because we moved. I think. Or maybe we moved after. I don't know anymore, and the whirling scream of all that ever made me who I am is deafening me, threatening to tear my existence to pieces until I'm nothing left but an empty shell and I have to remember!
My name is Bego... Begonia. I am eighte-... twent-... twenty-two. I went to school at Green Valley and my parents were hippies. Actors. Hippies when I was born. Their names... their names were... my name is...
My name is Begonia. I went to school. But I'm older now.
My name is Begon... gonia.
My name is Gonia.
My name is Gon...
My name is gone.
