evidence

Someone destroyed all the evidence for the past five years of my life.

I'm not sure how it happened. I woke up today and all the receipts, all the things I'd done, all the transactions I'd made, were gone. Scrubbed from anywhere that kept track. My apartment has been cleaned out of any identifying characteristics. To all appearances I've just moved in here. Like none of it happened. All I have to show for the last five years is me.

Five years, in which so many things happened and so much changed that I don't even remember it all. I needed some of that evidence just so I could keep track. It's gone. None of the relationships or the lies or the mistakes or the good times--they happened, I think, if I can trust my memory. But I can't prove it. I can't convince anyone if they doubt me. I'm just me, and that's all I have. No past, no story, nothing holding me back.

This means I can do anything now. I finally have nothing to prove.