Lost Memories

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Lost Memories

Something happened to me a while ago and I can’t remember it. It wasn’t an insignificant something. It was an impactful something but I can’t recall it. It comes in bits and pieces like when it rains and then abruptly stops. I have tried to remember the whole story, but only tiny details pop into my head like the color of his shirt or the door slamming. I smell his cologne and I hear him yelling. I don’t know what else.

I know I asked him why. He couldn’t answer me. He just said he was sorry. He didn’t mean to hurt me but he wanted things to work out. I wasn’t ready for all that. I was confused and scared and insecure in my own skin.

I am transparent, I think, about my feelings and he was mostly a Rubix Cube that I couldn’t figure out. I hated that, and even when I asked a magic 8 ball or tarot card they said to try again later or told me that the future was uncertain.

I know the future isn’t written yet and he told me that he still doesn’t know and he hasn’t known for quite some time.

If I could only remember what I lost when I closed that door and the locks were changed. I shut him and myself out. I didn’t know which road to take because I had forgotten all of their names.

Sometimes I call his number and ask him if he remembers, but he says “That was a long time ago” and “what’s done is done.” Well, I’m not done. I want to remember so that I can heal that wound and move forward. Maybe he’ll find the keys and open that door some day and we can sit across from each other and laugh our faces off. Perhaps he will take out his guitar and I can sing while he plays. I liked that a lot.

I realized that he used to tell me things by the songs he played me. I wasn’t listening and I regret that. I want to listen now but he won’t talk anymore, or sing or let me in.

Maybe it’s because I can’t remember what happened. If I could just access those memories maybe we would figure it out. We could sit in sing with each other again. There is more singing than laughing I do remember that.

I’m working hard on remembering and one day I will. Until that day comes I will sit in this chair looking at the puzzle pieces even if they seem like they don’t go together. They are triangles and some of them have jagged edges.

He was so good at putting things together. I wish he was here to help me with this. He had an eye for broken things and now that thing that is broken is me.

If you need help:

https://www.betterhelp.com/start/

By | 2017-07-12T15:32:53+00:00 June 24th, 2017|Categories: Uncategorized|0 Comments

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