Remember Me

Hey there Reader.

I'm just one speck of nothingness in more nothing. That's all I am until you see me. Never in person of course, but in your mind's eye. Maybe I'm sitting next to you. Maybe you're on the bus. I can't see you. But I can definitely feel you reading this. Its comforting, makes me worth something more than just printed words on a page. Because you see Reader, these words are just words until someone reads them, I am just black letters on a page until you breathe some life into me with your voice. I mean nothing, matter to nobody and don't exist until you open this book. Then when you close it back down again everything is reset. Back to nothing.

I sometimes daydream about who you are Reader. What you look like, how it must feel to be alive all the time. It must feel great. Maybe not all the time of course, we all have problems but the truth is that that's what I'm here for. I'm your escape. You disappear into my world of nothing and make it something to escape your world of something and make it nothing. You have all the power in the world when you pick up this book. Maybe it's worn, yellowed. Maybe it's got that brand new book smell. Maybe it's not yours, you're borrowing it. Maybe it's at that weird stage between new and old that all books seem to have when they have enough creases in the spine to last a lifetime but the covers are intact. Do the pages crinkle when you turn them?

It's not often that one comes upon a blank page Reader. A blank page doesn't have all the words shielding you from me. Your face swims behind a grate of black, the light filters through the gaps in the 'a's or 'o's. I can push and pull and squint my eyes but the words just always seem to get in the way. Blank pages are a blessing Reader, because then, and only then. I can see you. But even then you are distant.

Imagine a place for me. Try a park. Imagine the rusty old swing set with the mouldy wooden seats and the cracked red paint. Imagine the light whispers of the wind, tossing your hair about your face. Imagine the old streetlamp shining a cozy orange glow about the place. It's not nighttime, or maybe it is, maybe it's at that awkward twilight stage. It's your imagination Reader. I'd love to see the stars.

I sigh in wonder, sitting on the mouldy wood cautiously. Behind me are endless expanses of unimagined fields. They're vast and daunting, the grass is coarse and dry, I'm comforted by the knowledge that you can build anything you want back there, that the endless fields don't scare you as much as they scare me. I shift slightly, pushing myself back and forth with the heels of my feet. The swing set creaks and groans under my weight but I'm sure it will hold. The ground under my feet is muddy, there's a groove where it's been kicked at and abused by other people. Beside me there is a large red pole, the one with the chipped paint that seems to hold the whole swing set upright, etched into the paint are various attempts at hearts. I wonder who put them there and smile. This is the most real I've felt in ages Reader. Thank you.

The letters in the sky shimmer and create the illusion of the night. The dots of the 'i's turn to stars. I'm almost certain this isn't the constellation you see every night Reader. Maybe you don't see constellations at all. Maybe you can't see stars at night. Maybe you don't pay attention. If that's the case Reader, next time you see the night sky, look up for me. Point at the brightest star and give it a name. Give it my name. Make my name mean something more than just a boy in a book to you. Then every time you see the night sky you'll remember me. I don't want to be forgotten.

What are you afraid of Reader? Maybe it's spiders. Or heights. Or losing the people you love. It could be small spaces. Maybe you don't think you're afraid of anything. I think everyone's afraid of something. Having a fear makes you alive. Having a fear makes you human. Being fearless could be dangerous. Maybe we hide behind our fears and try to act like they don't exist. Ignoring something is far more painful than acknowledging it Reader. Acknowledging something means that you can try to fix it. Ignoring the problem bottles it up. Nothing is fixed telepathically in your world Reader.