I remember when you so effortlessly uprooted me from that place of desolation.
At first, I admit, I felt timid and awkward stumbling into the brilliance of your aura.
The way you’d cross the room!
Shoulders back, broad smile, arms swinging with each long stride, grey eyes wondering about… then you’d approach me.
Your lips would part and from your golden tongue would cascade words so perfectly placed… Each one of them, beautiful!
Face flushed and stuttering, I’d try to structure a response.
You know I’ve never been a good talker.
I told you it was because my mind conjured up too many thoughts at once, too many to pick from.
But really, it’s more that words are like vapors swirling inside my head.
When I open my mouth to direct them, they dissolve into the open air, the dissolution leaving my tongue with little to taste but hot breath and broken syllables.
I never did know how to explain that…
Do you remember the night we were on my back porch, I sat on the step below you, we were singing Disney songs, and you started playing with my hair?
I held my breath as you tugged and twisted the ends of my curls.
The nearly full moon illuminated billowy clouds overhead.
You whispered… “You’re so beautiful.”
I didn’t respond.
I never do.
You patted my head then started singing a new song.
At the time I told myself that I didn’t want anything more than to be the good friends that we were.
I was always so alone until you came along, everyday so willing to participate in those conversations with me, which, with time, grew less and less awkward.
You certainly withdrew me from my shell.
We talked about places we wanted to travel to, food we wanted to try, bands we wanted to see.
We talked about all the things we’d like to do in the future, together, as comrades.
I was happy.
Really I was.
I experienced a unique sensation of security.
But now, all I can do is reminisce.
I’ve started spending most of the day curled in bed underneath my covers again.
There’s a difference in this action than there was before though.
Instead of laying on my side, holding my stomach, embracing the heavy inhales I once prayed would fill up my seeming emptiness and lift me up out of my own destitution,
I clutch my chest, wincing.
With each breath my heart grows more aggravated, continuously pumping the snakes of pain through my veins.
How did this happen?
What is this new feeling?
As you brush by hand in hand with that brunette beauty barely sparing a glance in my direction,
I can’t decide…
Which is worse?
Being lost?
Or being forgotten?