Forgettable

I'm forgettable at best. I'm a random face in a crowd, a flash of color in your periphery. I have stood beside you at the bar, bumping into your elbow while unsuccessfully trying to get the bartender's attention. I'm that mom at school that usually turns up for functions, looking shabby and unkempt. You've seen me before huffing behind you in a line, probably trying to start up a vague, meaningless conversation because simple phrases and small talk are easiest for me. I'll try to engage you and you'll nod politely and go about your business. I was once a friend who lives in the dark recesses of your mental file room, going through faded black and white photographs of our time together. I'm that family member you lost touch with but thinks about you far more often than you think about me. I'm the shadow in the baking aisle at the supermarket, agonizing over frosting. I used to be more than a ghost. I used to have substance and intellectual leanings and intentions. I was all those things you are every day and then it all faded. The desire, the will, the energy, all of it dissolved and flushed away down the drains of life. I stood tall. I was proud. I was determined. Those things were taken away briskly before I could even think for a second that they were being ripped off my body, like scabs being scratched off. I was all those things once. I'm none of those things anymore. I'm a shade at best, a shade of the person I was, shrunken like an old apple. Hold onto your dreams, be present for those around you, engage, enlighten, shine. Don't be forgettable.