(forgotten)

i.

i wish i felt like

i have a place in your life--

that you want me around and

that i'm not just someone

who's just there,

or who's good for comfort

and not anything else.

(it hurts how many times)

(this has happened before)

ii.

when she comes around, i close

my door--i put heavy things behind

it and i turn out my light,

and i lie quiet in the green darkness

of my room until she leaves.

she pushes at my door, knocks,

calls my name, and she only

leaves me be when my

uncle comes down the hall and

pulls her from my door.

she wanted to give me flowers and

a book--she doesn't remember

that i'm allergic, though. she doesn't

even remember coming by, the

next day. i hate how much

it makes me want to cry.

iii.

my therapist says it will

take time for me to feel comfortable

with you, and to feel like i

can trust you again. she tells me

to be patient. (i'm trying--it's)

(hard.) when we call, i purposefully

fade into the background

like i can somehow

not exist in the space with you,

as if that could help anything

(i don't know what). i wait

and i wait and i wait

and you tell me it'd just be easier if i

existed. i'm hesitant.

(who knows if that's what made you)

(leave in the first place? i think.)

iv.

it makes me sick to my

stomach to think

of her dying, or getting

alzheimer's--not because

she would be 'lost' or 'gone,'

instead i feel sick at the thought

that soon i'll be the only one

who knows what happened

and what we shared. i don't

want to be the only one.

and even now, as i know she's forgotten

so much, like what books i like

and that i'm allergic to flowers,

and when she's even tried to see me,

i don't feel as trapped in the memories

as i know i will when she

dies or truly forgets me. someone

else has to know--has to know that

it happened and that she was

drunk most of the time, that

she made me pancakes and grilled cheese

and ramen and mac and cheese

because i liked them,

and that she drove us places even

when inebriated. someone

has to know that she

frightened and scared me,

that she made me sad and hurt,

that she hated all kids but she liked

me, that she rarely won monopoly to me

but she always played because it was my favorite,

that i cried for three months

when i heard she never wanted to see

my family again, and that i still

took the dvds of the movies we

had planned to watch, and i took

the m&ms, too, and i ate them,

because i wanted her to think of me

when she couldn't find them.

it took three months before she

did remember me,

and even then, she didn't remember

telling us she never wanted to see us

again. i couldn't understand it for

the longest time, but now i

suppose that when you're that drunk,

you might not remember the things you say or do.

even so, i don't want to be

the only one who knows

that happened. i don't want to be alone in those memories. she's

not there, and i don't know if she

ever was. but i don't want to be left

alone, back here in the past.

v.

i'm told i should try to be honest

with you. it's hard.

i just want to fade into nothingness

when you're around, and i don't

know why, but it's hard not to

do that every time.

how do i make myself want

to exist in a space with you,

where i'm as loud and comfortable

as i am with my other friends? i

don't know, but i feel like it might

hurt you if you find out how i am

with them. i want to be comfortable

with you and trust you again, i

really do, but the desire

to be nothing when you're around

is so overwhelming it hurts to breathe.