I forgot about them
Iāve been hanging out with the same person all of the time. He is, honestly, a wonderful friend. He and I see some things the same way, more than we used to for sure, but still not everything. I fear the day we see everything the same. It means we have become less ourselves and more each other, which would make us notĀ āusā at all. Because I see him so often and he is so often there, I had forgotten about some of the other people that have added to richness of my life.Ā
I forgot about the girl who got me my first job in college. I forgot about the girl I discussed politics with, who I listened to and learned from about experiences that werenāt mine. I forgot about the girl who has literally never said/done/been unkind to me one single day in her life. I forgot about my sorority sisters, the ones that have been carefully concerned and staying in touch for these past two tough years. I forgot about my friend who has been just as lost as me, as of late. I forgot about some of the classmates I had, who watched in awe as I succeeded and then just as quickly burnt down in flames, who were there without judgment and even when they were there with judgment it was closely guarded and carefully dealt out. I forgot about the teacher who helped me sound like myself and the one who taught me the basics of what it is to sing. I forgot about some of the kids back home who I said Iād never forget, and it turns out didnāt forget me. I forgot about my cousin, whose struggles I will never know and whose loyalty Iāve always had. I forgot about my roommates who donāt criticize me for forgetting to do dishes or for ordering food to the house when I canāt seem to make myself cook, who never sneak a peek at my messy room even though I disappear into it for hours at a time. I forgot about a colleague from work who laughs at my jokes and appreciates my support, giving equal support measure for measure. I forgot about the teachers I once feared, but who also taught me everything I know about my art. I forgot about all of them while I was dealing with me. They didnāt forget about me though. I have to fight the demons in my head and heart who are flabbergasted by this and remember that at one time, when I wasnāt so locked up in my own mind (and more literally in my own attic) I was there for them too. I have to remember that human empathy and concern does not always have to be earned by some great act of compassion or achievement, but should be/could be a product of genuine care, concern, and proximity- a product of existing on this planet together. The nice things they are doing are part of who they are. The nice I do are part of who I am. Together, we better the human race by caring for one another. It is a small, but significant thing.Ā
Now, I must do a better job at remembering them, all of them, every day. They are part of who I am and how I got to now. Who am I but the times I've laughed, the struggles I've seen, the people I've met, and the places whose dirt I carry in my shoes?Ā
