In the Eyes of Amita

“When you are playing a videogame, an external observer will probably say that you are sitting in a sofa or at the computer desk. But is this really where you are? When immersed in the virtual world of a videogame, do you still feel that you are sitting on a chair or in a sofa, staring at the screen?”

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The Facts:

H.M. is a name of an amnesiac. He lost his ability to form new memories so all of his experiences become a first time experience for him. Is it a gift or is it a curse?




I believe I was unconscious for several days. I wanted to ask my caretaker, but I later realized they are using a tongue I have never heard in my lifetime. I am on my own in this island with no memory, except for the floral dress they suggested I wore when they found me at the shore. It has the marking AMR. I believe that is my initial.



i began observing the territory that gave me refuge. i can sense that the village is divided over my arrival. Some would consider me as a bad omen because i arrived simultaneously with death. i couldn’t blame them. i am just grateful for the kindness of old lady who gave me shelter.


She called me Amita. i guess this is the name i have to remember from this point forward. It sounded nice, but i wondered what it meant. She wished to address her as Ima. i uttered it to her and she shed a tear. She held my hand and gave me a gentle smile.


i assigned myself to wash the dishes and give drink to her sheep and goat. She only had a few. i was fortunate her hut was blessed to have a nearby well. i wake up early in the morning and consider this my daily routine. There was no man in the house to assist us. We were both on our own and i am happy to be of help to her. She seemed happy to have me as company, but i showed very little emotion to all that she has done.



I developed a fear of the night, better yet I developed a fear of sleeping. I don’t want to close my eyes. I don’t want to lose consciousness. For some reason, I feel like something bad will happen if I do close it.



 by: Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose, In humble trust mine eyelids close, With reverential resignation, No wish conceived, no thought expressed, Only a sense of supplication; A sense o’er all my soul impressed That I am weak, yet not unblessed, Since in me, round me, every where Eternal strength and wisdom are.


But yester-night I prayed aloud In anguish and in agony, Up-starting from the fiendish crowd Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me: A lurid light, a trampling throng, Sense of intolerable wrong, And whom I scorned, those only strong! Thirst of revenge, the powerless will Still baffled, and yet burning still! Desire with loathing strangely mixed On wild or hateful objects fixed. Fantastic passions! maddening brawl! And shame and terror over all! Deeds to be hid which were not hid, Which all confused I could not know Whether I suffered, or I did: For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe, My own or others still the same Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame.


So two nights passed: the night’s dismay Saddened and stunned the coming day. Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me Distemper’s worst calamity. The third night, when my own loud scream Had waked me from the fiendish dream, O’ercome with sufferings strange and wild, I wept as I had been a child; And having thus by tears subdued My anguish to a milder mood, Such punishments, I said, were due To natures deepliest stained with sin, – For aye entempesting anew The unfathomable hell within The horror of their deeds to view, To know and loathe, yet wish and do! Such griefs with such men well agree, But wherefore, wherefore fall on me? To be beloved is all I need, And whom I love, I love indeed.