Friday, July 15, 2011

Ode to Someone Who Forgot Me

Sometimes, I really hate you. I see you smiling and laughing and perfectly fine, standing around with your new friends who can see you every day but can't see what you were before I lost you.

Except I haven't really lost you, have I, because technically, technically, I could just go up to you and say hello and maybe you'd say it back to me. Except, then what would we say?

"I miss you." Too forward. Some days, the days when I hate you, I think you've forgotten who I am. You forgot my last name, didn't you, that one time two years ago? I think I walked home that day in a shock. I was catatonic, and I knew that you didn't miss me.

"How has your life been since you left me behind?" I've shown more weakness to you than to almost anyone else, and though you haven't turned around and stabbed me where it hurts, you've done something that, in a way, is worse. You've taken this piece of me, rough around the edges and unpleasant to look at, and you've tucked it away without another thought.

And yes, that does hurt. How do you think pictures feel when they're taken off the wall and set aside behind some too-large cabinet to snatch the dust from the air? Nothing, that's what, because they're just pictures and they lack the blood vessels and nerves that I have. They lack the ability to feel.

Sometimes, I envy them for that.

"Did you know that I loved you?" Because I did, and sometimes I think I still do. You'll smile, even if not at me, and my breath will stop. I'm sure my heart stops too, so I turn away because I don't want to die and I don't want to see who you're smiling at instead.

"I get so insanely jealous over you." But why? You're not mine; you haven't been for at least three years – probably longer than that. I can't own you, I can't hold you down, I can't catch you so I just stop and watch you run off into the distance with what we used to be, until you couldn't hear what I have to say even if I screamed it.

I need to get over you.


Written November 2010. Prompt: "If Only."


  1. Was this based on a true experience?

    If so: Hon, you are WAY too young to worry about "relationships." WAY. Too young. Hence, don't sweat it. Middle school and freshmen year (they're combined in my state, which I think is stupid, for lack of a stronger word) is totally the pits (not promising that high school's any better, but at least people are a little more mature). Plus, nothing ever comes out of a pre-junior-year-of-high-school relationship. Ever.

    Hence, bide your time, and focus on driving boys crazy instead.

    If not: Well, you just missed out on a great wealth of knowledge and advice. Too bad. ;)

  2. Partly based on a true experience, partly not. Either way, I'll take your advice. :)