My old classmates in our group chat were talking about senility, and honestly, I was relieved—it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I used to live by myself, but lately the place has shifted: Two sisters keep stopping by, even though I never made them a home. Senility and Infantile-ity—they’re back again at the door, practically camping out in my apartment with me. I don’t know where they came from, but my memory is still clear— Wait, where are my glasses? I had them a minute before! If my memory serves me right, the sisters said yesterday they already share a house with their cousin, Alzheimer’s. They said he’ll be moving in soon, so we’ll all be in one crowd— And he’s notorious for tucking things away. Senility and Infantile-ity—they’re back again at the door, practically camping out in my apartment with me. I don’t know where they came from, but my memory is still clear— Wait, where are my glasses? I had them a minute before! I’m telling you again: my memory’s excellent! I can even call up every detail from my first year. Those old scenes are still sharp as a tack— But where are my glasses again? I just had them right here! Senility and Infantile-ity—I see now I’m the one living at their place. I just hope they let me stay, so I’m not left on my own. Sometimes I can’t find my way back, but my memory is still clear— Wait, where are my glasses? I had them a minute before! I’m telling you, my memory is still sharp! But where on earth are my glasses now?! Do you happen to know... what I’m looking for?
