It’s something that I never want to be.
I want to be remembered, good, bad, whatever, I don’t want to be that girl in the background.
I want to feel like my life has meaning, and that if I’m not forgotten, someone will think that I’m worth something.
bleak outlook
blank gaze
bars and aching heart
sounds from the heart beating
an embryo of hope stillborn
pray to the imam that woman will not be
forgotten
Thousands of people each year feel forgotten. I’m not talking about feeling forgotten as in personally neglected, by friends or by family. People sometimes feel neglected because their government (including the media) is simply ignoring them or not giving them the attention they deserve. This can be a severely damaging thing, emotionally and socially.
the time was near. The forgotten were coming. SO thought Jess as she ran down the streets, framed with maple trees bending in the wind. Her heart was pounding faster and faster as she ran, trying to outrun speed itself. The wind caught her hair and whipped it about her face, blinding her for just a moment, as the wraiths caught up to her. She screamed as the shadowy fingers tore at her cloths, the voices, chillign as ice and fog, wrapping itno her ears and mind. Remember… remember… remember. “NO!” she cried out loud, wrenching herself from their grasp. “Never!” But the shadows were stronger than she was. She had almost given up… that’s when the light came.
I think being forgotten is one of my top most fears. I’d hate to have lived through my life, and pass on without a second thought from those who knew me. I don’t want fame; I don’t want everyone in the world to me. But if I make a change in the lives of those close to me, then that’s what matters. I don’t want to be forgotten by those who matter most to me.
Borges once said in his short fiction “Legend” something like “to forgive is to forget”. More that forgiveness and forgetting are one and the same. I’ve been learning that the hard way quite a bit lately.
I never want to be forgotten, but I fear that I already have. My friends, they never include me or talk to me. It kind of hurts, to not be included. And then when you say that you feel left out, they just say “Oh, we totally forgot to ask you.” And doesn’t that just ruin you.
Lost but not forgotten. That’s what she is. A lost memory buried deep within the confines of my aching heart. I miss her, with each day that passes, I long to know what could have happened, what could have been , had she just been like me. Had she been in love with her best friend…Had she had loved me in the way I loved her.
There are so many cringe-worthy memories I’ve tried to forget. Most of them aren’t even that bad, but in my head, I remember them being terrible and traumatizing, and much worse than they really were.
I wish I didn’t remember when I was at the town pool when my age was still in single digits. I misheard an announcement about adult swim being over. I blissfully jumped into the pool, thinking my just-made pool friends would follow me, but I was alone, in the pool, during adult swim.
We didn’t want to leave. It was a great town, filled with the lush colors of a Rockwell painting, the vibrancy of a thousand or so people, all of whom could be considered good.
i’ve forgotten what it was like to sit on a swingset and push my legs up in the air. i can’t do that anymore because a) i am too fat, b) i can’t really move my legs. it also hurts my hips when i sit on a swing. i miss the thrill of being pushed from behind, up in the air.
If there was ever anything to be written about, it is the things forgotten. Whether the memories were outlived or the stories never told, they’re gone.
long lost, but not. Another life has been. Nobody has, but he was. Nothing to be. Everything to become. Nobody but him. Everyone but her. Actually, everyone but her is.
Anything I’ve done for him is gone. All the hopes, the dreams, the laughs, the joy is gone. All is recalled is my reaction, my fear, my issues. It was never thought of, never addressed, only resented. Now I will be ushered into the recesses of his mind.
forgotten by friends. forgotten memories. forgotten recipes. sometimes i wish to be forgotten so some people would be out of my life. i bet they think the same thing though. forgotten loved ones. not reminded of them enough. forgotten dates. forgotten history. forgotten test i have to take. forgotten birthdays. forgotten holidays when you get so busy and your mind’s a mess. forgotten your own birthday because your so worried about your grandma in cayman during hurricane ivan.
To be forgotten is my greatest fear, my mightiest passion, and my biggest regret. To be forgotten is inevitable, terrifying and utterly expected. Everyone is forgotten eventually, by most or even by all. No one remembers King Minos, not how he really was. Some say he never even existed at all.
i know you’ll forget me. it’s ok. my memories of you mean more to me than yours do, and thats something i’ll have to live with. sure it hurts, knowing you’ll never remember what i’ll cherish forever. thanks for the memories; i’ll always love you, friend.
I have not forgotten that when I was with you I had fun. But the fun was short and contrived and I’m left wondering if it was worth it. With a smile as fake and forced as our love, we grinned through cleanced teeth. So no i have not forgotten but I hate to remember.
Quiet eyes and fading faces. A name, a person, a feeling. It’ll never rise up from the bottom of the sea. All manner of marine life has grown over it. But don’t worry, the fish will take care of it.
I had almost forgotten what she smelled like. Then a coworker wore the same perfume the other day, and it all rushed back to me; it’s no coincidence that scent is the closest sense tied to memory. It all flushed back into me, and it was as exhilarating as that night.
Forgotten passages of time. Forgotten people. Forgotten things that seem to pass you by, and yet none of them are forgot in either heart or memory. Those things that often pass us by are stored as bits and pieces which we never quite let go, or keep dear. To forget is love. To remember, fond infatuation.
The broken doll with a broken porcelain face. She sleeps beneath the trees, waiting for a day when she won’t have to wait. The rain is only a reminder. Someday, she knows and tells herself, someone will be back for her. She hasn’t been abandoned; she’s been forgotten. It’s only a matter of time before she is remembered.
My desire for another drink forgotten, I stared at the beauty who just graced our presence by walking through the doors of the “Empty Saddle Saloon.” I wanted to go to her and woo her, but my feet were somehow glued to the floor. All I could do was watch as another cowboy swooped in and swept her off her feet.
He sat in the corner, just out of thought, resting in that place at the very corner of the eye. Occasionally he would come forward, raise a hand as if to gain attention…sometimes he would even speak. No one would listen. Forgotten, he would ghost his way back to the corner of thought and watch the world pass him by.
Everything is always forgotten. Why even go through life chasing answers when it will all soon be forgotten. Life is a big ol circle! So many things also long to be forgotten but simply cannot be because of the huge impact something so tiny can create.
He had long forgotten the feelings between us and could never remember how he had felt. He had forgotten me and it was time for me to move on whether I wanted to or not.
It’s something that I never want to be.
I want to be remembered, good, bad, whatever, I don’t want to be that girl in the background.
I want to feel like my life has meaning, and that if I’m not forgotten, someone will think that I’m worth something.
bleak outlook
blank gaze
bars and aching heart
sounds from the heart beating
an embryo of hope stillborn
pray to the imam that woman will not be
forgotten
Thousands of people each year feel forgotten. I’m not talking about feeling forgotten as in personally neglected, by friends or by family. People sometimes feel neglected because their government (including the media) is simply ignoring them or not giving them the attention they deserve. This can be a severely damaging thing, emotionally and socially.
lost and unforgiving
drink up to the last drop
it’ll make you sane
it’ll make you different
it’ll make you sane
the time was near. The forgotten were coming. SO thought Jess as she ran down the streets, framed with maple trees bending in the wind. Her heart was pounding faster and faster as she ran, trying to outrun speed itself. The wind caught her hair and whipped it about her face, blinding her for just a moment, as the wraiths caught up to her. She screamed as the shadowy fingers tore at her cloths, the voices, chillign as ice and fog, wrapping itno her ears and mind. Remember… remember… remember. “NO!” she cried out loud, wrenching herself from their grasp. “Never!” But the shadows were stronger than she was. She had almost given up… that’s when the light came.
I think being forgotten is one of my top most fears. I’d hate to have lived through my life, and pass on without a second thought from those who knew me. I don’t want fame; I don’t want everyone in the world to me. But if I make a change in the lives of those close to me, then that’s what matters. I don’t want to be forgotten by those who matter most to me.
I wonder what I’ve forgotten. But pondering forgotten things is remembering that they were; faces I can’t recognize.
I’ve forgotten the way to the bus station Malissa.
Have you?
A way untaken unforgotten,, yes…
memories, family, promises, conviction, knowledge, debts, thought our lives we forget them all, thus these ideas could be dubbed the forgotten.
Forgotten. The people who die. Sometimes.
Borges once said in his short fiction “Legend” something like “to forgive is to forget”. More that forgiveness and forgetting are one and the same. I’ve been learning that the hard way quite a bit lately.
I never want to be forgotten, but I fear that I already have. My friends, they never include me or talk to me. It kind of hurts, to not be included. And then when you say that you feel left out, they just say “Oh, we totally forgot to ask you.” And doesn’t that just ruin you.
Lost but not forgotten. That’s what she is. A lost memory buried deep within the confines of my aching heart. I miss her, with each day that passes, I long to know what could have happened, what could have been , had she just been like me. Had she been in love with her best friend…Had she had loved me in the way I loved her.
There are so many cringe-worthy memories I’ve tried to forget. Most of them aren’t even that bad, but in my head, I remember them being terrible and traumatizing, and much worse than they really were.
I wish I didn’t remember when I was at the town pool when my age was still in single digits. I misheard an announcement about adult swim being over. I blissfully jumped into the pool, thinking my just-made pool friends would follow me, but I was alone, in the pool, during adult swim.
I sighed, turning away from the window as my eyes fell down to the letter I still held in my hands. It was good as final; I was forgotten.
Left behind.
Alone.
I bit my lip, crumpling the paper after a few moments and throwing it into the nearby fireplace.
We didn’t want to leave. It was a great town, filled with the lush colors of a Rockwell painting, the vibrancy of a thousand or so people, all of whom could be considered good.
i’ve forgotten what it was like to sit on a swingset and push my legs up in the air. i can’t do that anymore because a) i am too fat, b) i can’t really move my legs. it also hurts my hips when i sit on a swing. i miss the thrill of being pushed from behind, up in the air.
It is sad to realize that you have been forgotten by someone you love. They just move on…
i think of a stupid movie title…maybe it was about planes or something…i know it had the red head (Julianne Moore) lame. oh wait! it was a
If there was ever anything to be written about, it is the things forgotten. Whether the memories were outlived or the stories never told, they’re gone.
long lost, but not. Another life has been. Nobody has, but he was. Nothing to be. Everything to become. Nobody but him. Everyone but her. Actually, everyone but her is.
Anything I’ve done for him is gone. All the hopes, the dreams, the laughs, the joy is gone. All is recalled is my reaction, my fear, my issues. It was never thought of, never addressed, only resented. Now I will be ushered into the recesses of his mind.
I forgot what I was supossed to write…uhmmmm….yeah…….
The forest with littered with forgetten flyers that were hung up by a 14 year old girl looking for her lost kitten named Basil.
forgotten by friends. forgotten memories. forgotten recipes. sometimes i wish to be forgotten so some people would be out of my life. i bet they think the same thing though. forgotten loved ones. not reminded of them enough. forgotten dates. forgotten history. forgotten test i have to take. forgotten birthdays. forgotten holidays when you get so busy and your mind’s a mess. forgotten your own birthday because your so worried about your grandma in cayman during hurricane ivan.
Rider left her wallet at a department store the day of her appointment with dr simms. She had tears
To be forgotten is my greatest fear, my mightiest passion, and my biggest regret. To be forgotten is inevitable, terrifying and utterly expected. Everyone is forgotten eventually, by most or even by all. No one remembers King Minos, not how he really was. Some say he never even existed at all.
i know you’ll forget me. it’s ok. my memories of you mean more to me than yours do, and thats something i’ll have to live with. sure it hurts, knowing you’ll never remember what i’ll cherish forever. thanks for the memories; i’ll always love you, friend.
I have not forgotten that when I was with you I had fun. But the fun was short and contrived and I’m left wondering if it was worth it. With a smile as fake and forced as our love, we grinned through cleanced teeth. So no i have not forgotten but I hate to remember.
My teenage hopes and aspirations, my self-consciousness and self hatred, how I used to play the victim, and why.
Quiet eyes and fading faces. A name, a person, a feeling. It’ll never rise up from the bottom of the sea. All manner of marine life has grown over it. But don’t worry, the fish will take care of it.
I had almost forgotten what she smelled like. Then a coworker wore the same perfume the other day, and it all rushed back to me; it’s no coincidence that scent is the closest sense tied to memory. It all flushed back into me, and it was as exhilarating as that night.
Forgotten passages of time. Forgotten people. Forgotten things that seem to pass you by, and yet none of them are forgot in either heart or memory. Those things that often pass us by are stored as bits and pieces which we never quite let go, or keep dear. To forget is love. To remember, fond infatuation.
The broken doll with a broken porcelain face. She sleeps beneath the trees, waiting for a day when she won’t have to wait. The rain is only a reminder. Someday, she knows and tells herself, someone will be back for her. She hasn’t been abandoned; she’s been forgotten. It’s only a matter of time before she is remembered.
Forgotten
What to say, you see I used to write these thing’s down to remember.
Then I started forgetting to write those things down I didn’t want to forget.
My desire for another drink forgotten, I stared at the beauty who just graced our presence by walking through the doors of the “Empty Saddle Saloon.” I wanted to go to her and woo her, but my feet were somehow glued to the floor. All I could do was watch as another cowboy swooped in and swept her off her feet.
He sat in the corner, just out of thought, resting in that place at the very corner of the eye. Occasionally he would come forward, raise a hand as if to gain attention…sometimes he would even speak. No one would listen. Forgotten, he would ghost his way back to the corner of thought and watch the world pass him by.
Everything is always forgotten. Why even go through life chasing answers when it will all soon be forgotten. Life is a big ol circle! So many things also long to be forgotten but simply cannot be because of the huge impact something so tiny can create.
I’ll never forget most of the things I’ve seen. Although I guess I wouldn’t know if that weren’t true.
I wonder what everyone else remembers about me. If they remember me at all, that is.
He had long forgotten the feelings between us and could never remember how he had felt. He had forgotten me and it was time for me to move on whether I wanted to or not.