Losing What is Lost
They say I have amnesia – retrograde amnesia, to be exact. I cannot remember anything that happened to me before waking up to sunlight on my face and a boy screaming. They say he is my brother; I don’t remember.
Someone slipped up one day, a guy around my age named Elijah. He was telling me how we were friends and that I lost my memory because of an ischemic stroke. I had tried to interfere in a fight between my prom date and my ex-boyfriend, Oliver, – “Classic Alice,” Elijah had said then – and my ex had shoved me out of the way a little too hard. That was when I collapsed, though it wasn’t just from the shove. I had started speaking ‘gibberish’ before the fight broke out, but it had all happened so quickly that my friends didn’t have time to be concerned. I stumbled between the guys before the coincidental moment.
Because it wasn’t my lack of balance or inability to speak that had me brought to the hospital, it was the blood streaming down my split lip. I was lucky that Oliver had shoved me, otherwise it would have been longer before I had gotten help.
I’m lucky; I know I am. I have only been in the hospital for six days and I can already remember traces of the confusion I felt during the fight. The feeling of my feet floating in air before being grabbed back to the ground. The people dancing around me in a circle.
The thing is: that’s not all I remember. I have had brief flashes of an angular face yelling at me, grabbing my arms so that red crescent moons were left behind on pallid skin. Dark hair – my hair – flying around my arms only to be pulled behind me, yanking on my scalp.
I may not remember everything right now, but I know that I don’t want to. I think something bad happened before prom, and I’m not certain anyone else knows, except for Oliver. Because, it is his face that I see (according to the pictures brought to me), and, as desperately as my family and Elijah want me to regain my memory, I can’t bring myself to want the same. People bringing in pictures from before makes my situation worse – because it’s helping. This current guilt is nothing compared to the pain from the past.
The more my memory comes back, the more I treasure my amnesia. It doesn’t make any sense except to say that I am beginning to believe that I am too weak to handle the truth of my life. I am terrified, and I can’t remember feeling a similar emotion except for in my lost memories that are beginning to not feel so lost.
Shades of Red
When you first took notice of me, I was cherry.
My cheeks contained just the right amount of rose as I smiled at you for the first time.
When you first kissed me, I was ruby.
My heart pumped quicker and may have even became a shade brighter.
When you first made me feel special, I was scarlet.
I had never felt as important as I did in that short amount of time.
When you first made me feel bothersome, I became wine.
My feelings for you were a deep merlot color that I mistakenly took on.
When you first got angry with me, I had become salmon.
With each piercing word, my hue weakened.
When you first wanted me back, I was already sangria.
Flavorful as ever, delectable and untroubled.
I hope your heart is heavy.
I hope that it weighs you down and makes you slouch even more than you already do.
I hope your heart pounds when you hear my voice.
I hope you feel the sharp pang of regret that I often do whenever you see my name.
I hope your heart cries when you think of me and wavers when you reminisce on our memories.
I hope your heart feels empty,
And all alone.
Like it is the only organ in your entire body.
I hope that your heart begins to heal.
I hope that it fills up again with warm feelings.
I hope your heart remembers what it feels like to love.
I hope you ruined what we had to find out what your heart really needs.
Maybe you’ll find out it needed me all along.
I will already be resting my head on another heart as I listen to it’s steady beat
This is what my heart got broken for.
I find myself feeling nothing again,
As I write with a numb, heaviness in my fingertips,
Desperately searching for emotion only to find none.
It's not the first time,
I'm not surprised, I just had hoped that I could evade it longer,
Or should I welcome the emptiness threatening to envelop me with open arms?
I find myself unsure whether I simply do not know or I do not care,
I think lately it's been quite a bit of both,
How I long to feel anything at all; lust, pain, anger, sadness, even regret...
Anything, rather than the nothingness that claims me as it's own.
As I sink into oblivions arms,
The mind numbing reality hits me,
And I realize the insignificance of existence
I'm not sure why every leaf must die,
She took my hand as she drew me in,
My autumn and gold, my summer sin,
Yes the leaves are turning brown now,
My love is not as green as she used to be,
There's sadness in her eyes when she smiles at me,
I fall slowly, spiraling, like the oak leaves,
I fear the inevitable alas, I know it's too late,
We are fraying at the edges and winter await,
I'm not sure why every leaf must die,
Perhaps it's better not to dwell on such things,
For there is death and decay in even the most beautiful of springs.
The empty feeling left behind,
When something is gone,
And cannot be replaced.
The time spent daydreaming,
Of a something that cannot be,
That cannot come back.
The crushed hopes and smiles,
Stolen from your inside,
The sadness of the soul.
The mourning of someone,
Who left you behind,
Someone you might never see again.
The stabbing hole in your chest,
That can never be replaced,
This is what loss means to me,
A part of me is missing,
Never to be regained.
But I will live on,
Try to fill that empty space,
With something worth living for.
suck my toes
You suck for making me the saddest I have ever been.
You suck for making me cry until my tears run out.
You suck for giving me hope.
You suck for making me love you.
You suck for disintegrating in front of my eyes.
You suck for leaving me wondering what is wrong with me.
So, since you like to suck so much, here are my toes.