I'm starting to wonder if I made them up. Maybe I'm insane.
Sometimes when I think about them I realize the memories aren't right. Like they aren't-...real? Details are missing, things I should know.
...I don't know my brothers' names.
What I do remember- as wonderful as it was- it feels like it's too...ideal. Like's it's something out of some story.
At the end of the day, whether they were ever real or not, they aren't here. No one here knows me. Does my past matter if there's no one that knows I was there? Does my future?