Friday, December 23, 2011

I Don't Care What You Think As Long As It's About Me

"Yeah, you could kiss like fire and you made me feel
like every word you said was meant to be.
No, it couldn't have been that easy to forget about me."
                                                                 -Tom Petty

"When you close your eyes, do you dream about me?"
                                                                  -Night Ranger

One of my biggest fears is being forgotten.

If forced to perform a psychoanalysis (which I am in no way qualified to do), I suppose I'd say that it's my insecurities that make me care whether or not I cross the minds of people who are no longer a part of my life. Whatever the reason, I do it, and I do it constantly.

You name the people from my past, I wonder if they wonder about me.

I guess I feel like if people don't think about the people from their past, it's almost as if the time spent with those people never existed.  And if that's the case, how sad is that? How sad is it to think that Somebody could spend hoursdaysweeksmonthsyears with Someone, and then one day  Someone will cease to exist to Somebody? How sad is it that the
conversations
secrets
dreams
inside jokes
sweetly awkward moments
will one day be lost to one, if not both, or all, parties?

I (begrudgingly) accept that relationships don't last forever. But memories should. Because, really, in the end aren't memories all we have?

If we aren't
(If I'm)
remembered, did we
(did I)
matter at all?

1 comment:

  1. I actually think about this a lot, because I think about a lot of random people I used to know. Not even people I was particularly close to, and I wonder if there are people that once knew me that do the same thing. A lot of the things you mention here are things that scared me terribly when Rob died. So much of who I am is because of the time we spent together, and without that other half, who was I really, anyway? There are times that I achingly miss him, and it's usually over one of these shared moments that no one understands but me now.

    Actively remembered or not, it all means something, it all works into who we are. You mention in your next post a photo that you have no memory of being taken, but in that moment, you were genuinely happy. Your recollection- or not- of it doesn't change what the moment was, does it?

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