I remember at one point in my life feeling empty, but heavy all at once. Before I became my own person I was somebody else's property. I'd let people use me however they pleased. I made friends. Some good. Some not so good. Some only liked what I could provide but back then I didn't care. Take whatever you want from me, just please make me feel alive.
I remember my first girlfriend. I remember she never said I love you- unless I had a gift in tow. I remember when she'd get angry. She was so familiar I knew her like the back of my own hand knew the ruler that belonged to my private tutor. Somehow it all felt the same.
I remember my brother. I remember when he laughed it made a smile creep onto my own face. As if the corners of my mouth were controlled by his. I loved my brother.
I don't remember most of my days. I don't remember a lot. My psychiatrist says it's a defense mechanism to protect myself from... myself. I remember being really confused about it. What could've happened that was so painful for my brain to throw away so many moments of my life. It's as if you're reading your favorite book; it's flowing beautifully and- wait. There's an abrupt stop. The pages become blank. You keep flipping and turning back. Lick your thumb and make sure the pages aren't stuck together and oh the words started again... but they make no sense because the pieces of information that brought it all together are gone. I don't remember.
I remember, I don't remember how many tries to get to her, but I remember her. Brown eyes that swallowed you whole, the color of cinnamon sticks dipped in honey. Warm like basking in the sun. Calming like lavender between your pillow case. I've argued countless times with my therapist about whether she was real, but I know she was. Where was she from again- it's on the tip of my tongue. It always seems to slip. There's a longing in my heart to leave this life I've created and venture off to find her. Her name? I don't know... Could I recognize her in a crowd? Maybe. If I could just make eye contact. I'd know those eyes anywhere. But where? I look for them but I think I'm in the wrong place. Maybe I don't remember her.
I remember my first steps of freedom. They were terrifying. They were against the rules. I remember my friends dragging me by the wrists and telling me "run." But nobody could see them.
Anyways there are memories there. But they're scattered and make no sense. So I feel heavy and empty. The dots don't connect and there are faces with no names and names with no faces and voices who call out to me and people who greet me knowingly that I do not know. But I'm safe. My family is safe. That makes sense. My daughter says "daddy" we're not very formal. That was all I ever wanted when I was her age. I suppose it's all I could ever ask for. I suppose I've thrived. I'm lucky and thankful to have survived. I remember when all I could hope for was to not be alive.
