"Please don't forget me, don't let me fade away... I was here, I lived, and I loved..." -Dannielle Wicks
I'm very used to being the person that people gloss over, that people interrupt. I'm that person that starts a story and stops midway because I realize no one is really listening.
One of my worst fears is that people that I love just... forget me. It's irrational, I know, but I can't help but imagine:
What if I'm forgotten?
I feel like that's why I'm so determined to make an impact on the world. I want to be that role model that people look up to and think 'Wow, she achieved so much.' or 'If she could survive all that and be where she is now? I can survive what I'm going through'. I want to be a symbol of hope, to those who hope to make it out. I hope to make it out of Goldwyn and be remembered by people from there.
But it's not even the strangers, not the people I'll never meet that I desire the space in their mind...it's my friends. The ones that are far away from me, whether literally or figuratively. Mateo...Manuella...Marisol...
I hope I don't fade from their minds, I hope I made an impact at least. Someone they can look back on and smile at our memories. I never realized how much I valued the recognition of my friends, even family. Things I regret I never did like I never met my brother who was raised by my grandmother after my father left him in Brazil when he came to the States. I'm surely aware of him and am updated on how his life is. He got married, bought a house, but he doesn't want kids. I wonder if I ever talked to him, that I'd have a brotherly presence in my life that lasted. I always secretly wanted a brother, I always secretly wanted to talk to him, but I never did due to my own shame and shyness.
My two sisters, I often talked to, even though I only lived with one of them. The one I lived with, her name was Heloisa and she was actually adopted by my parents which explained the thirty-year difference between us. The one that lived in Brazil, her name was Adelpha, my mom had her young but the difference between us was only ten years. My relationship with Adelpha started when I was seven when she finally got a tourist visa and was able to visit me along with our aunt. She didn't come for a long while after that. Until I was thirteen turning fourteen when she visited again, that visit I remember more vividly, and we had memories I feel like true sisters would have. We hid from our mother in the mall because Mom wanted her to buy a dress for an upcoming wedding and just like me, Adelpha hates dresses. We ran off and got edible cookie dough, double chocolate chip.
Those memories I know we'll both cherish, and I know she'll remember them, remember me. After she left to go back to Brazil, I got her number, and we often texted after that. The small 'I love you's and 'Hey how are you's are those that I saved in the back of my mind, our giggling at the eccentric acts of our mother or our episodes of me teaching her English.
I wish, I wish I could send out bouquets, bouquets of solely azure forget-me-nots to all the people I wish I could be with. With lapis lazuli petals making paths back to those people. A path to Marisol, with the coffee that she never drinks. A path to Mateo and Manuella, checking in on them and wanting to meet Miguel. A path leading all the way to Adelpha with two scoops of double chocolate chip cookie dough. The path to Adelpha forms a fork leading to my brother.
So many paths, so many I can't tread.
And so many more that I'm sure that'll be created the more I age.
I'm sick of losing my friends and family to forces I can't control. Maybe one day I can tread one of those paths and welcome that lost companion with open arms. As we go to the local coffeehouse and catch up over a scone and some espresso, lament on old memories and learn all about their current life, and their job, and what they do, and where they plan to go.
I love that, I love learning about a person. I love learning about what makes that person, that person. The life experiences and the small little facts about them, their pet peeves, small little facial or physical gestures they do. I want that when I'm older and hopefully, I'll meet more people, and they'll know my story. And my life experiences and the small little facts about me, my pet peeves, the small little facial or physical gestures I do.
And maybe...maybe I'll be remembered, I don't know for how long but I hope it'll be for a while. Marked down in history. Maybe as the girl who made it out, or the Goldwyn girl that made it big.
But at least I'll be remembered.
And maybe one day, people won't gloss me over, and maybe one day, I won't have to stop midway in a story because nobody is listening to me.
I'll be heard.
And it'll feel amazing.
And the entire world would glow a forget-me-not blue.
And I'll be satisfied.
- kyia
