Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I remember that day, as if it were yesterday. We were spending the week around New Years Eve in
    Budapest, and I was so happy to have gotten away from what had been twisting my life upside down,
    back home.

    I remember, how we were descending that old staircase at our place, to go out for the night. I looked
    up to my friends, their smiles falling through the gloomy symmetry above me.

    I remember that odd, disturbing sensation floating through my body, while ordering the biggest dish I
    ever saw, in that restaurant "Fatâl". I felt, as if the very air around me slowly started to clench, like
    invisible iron, for some minutes. Then it faded away.

    I remember having already forgotten about this, when we went to that club, afterwards. I ordered my
    first cocktail that night, a Mojito, and wondered what it would taste like. When the DJ just started
    playing a track a friend of mine used to play quite often, I joined the others to tell them.

    I remember waiting to get my coat, in the checkroom,

    "Do we leave, yet?"

    I remember my friends' deeply worried faces.

    "You don't remember anything, do you?"

    I remember people looking at me as if I were a ghost.

    "Remember what, exactly?"

    I remember the silence.

    "You just had an epileptic seizure. Just try to stay calm, please. The staff have called an ambulance..."

    I remember utmost fear.

    My friends told me, I blanked out right on the dancefloor. After I regained consciousness, they took me
    to the restroom to clean my face, then they guided me to the checkroom. I did not believe them.

    I remember something within me falling apart.

    Today, whenever I look at this picture, I see something I can't remember. Me, lying on the floor,
    looking up to my friends' faces. Terrified, not smiling. Staring at me through a chasm.

    Today I know, that had to happen. I was sort of provoking it, back then. Thank god, it's been the only
    incident. A single, dire warning not to spurn my health and my mind like I used to, ever again.

    I'll remember that for the rest of my life.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.