Forgetting you

I’m forgetting you. I don’t want to but memory has its own way of doing things. It pushes something back until it forgets it’s there. Like when you push your favourite shirt to the bottom of the drawer only to find it on a random day when you decide to clean your closet. You pick it up, take it out, you hold it in front of you and try to remember what it was you liked so much about it. What drew you in, what kept you there. What pushed you away and what made you hide it, made you want to never see it again. You’re falling to the bottom of my memory’s drawer. Sometimes I try to grab you, to pull you back. I try to hold on to something you said, something you did, but you always slip through my fingers. You go down, away, you’re covered by new memories, by recent moments, by people present.

I’m forgetting you. Because you’re not here. You became a notification on my phone. A reminder to do a lesson, to learn a language that doesn’t speak to me. Your name is on my screen but there is no message. There is no thought you share and there is nothing for me to hold on to. There is no picture, no video, and no missed calls. There is no voice note recorded in a hurry, on your way home, to complain about a colleague or to tell me something new you learnt today. There is no song you sent, and there is no waiting to hear my mind.

So I’m forgetting you. And it’s weird. The things we did, the things we talked about, everything you ever cooked for us; it’s still there. But it’s like I can’t see it. It’s like when you pull open the curtains only to see the way mist covered everything. You know the view in front of you by heart. You know where the buildings are and where the trees blend into the sky. You know where the dogs stop to sniff and where the street curves, the cars swallowed by the park. And still, you can’t see anything. The same way, I know where your lips first touched my skin, where your words found refuge in my mind, where your gaze fell and stayed stuck. I know where everything you ever thought unworthy, everything you felt too much, the things you were ashamed of, I know where they are hidden. And still, I can’t see anything.

I’m forgetting you. And it hurts. But the pain I feel is not about you. It’s not us either. It’s me. It’s diving deep to show you everything there is and looking back to see you didn’t follow. It’s knowing that my depth is scary. That it might drown the inexperienced. It’s knowing that the same way you might suffocate in the deep, I would suffocate on the surface. It’s a bruise that’s tender when you touch. It’s a scab that leaves a scar when it falls. It’s a lesson that teaches that not all water is the same.

I’m forgetting you. Because you wanted to stay when I wanted to go. I wanted to move fast when you grabbed my hand and told me to slow down. It was like we were both heading in the same direction, but I was driving when you were walking. And then I stopped. I opened the door and asked you to join. I told you that I know the way, that you didn’t have to find by yourself. But I didn’t realise that’s what you needed. I forgot that ways are not shown, they are found. I forgot that maps are not given, they are created. I didn’t think you needed to get lost to find your way. I knew where we were going and I wanted you to come with me. But we had different ways of getting there and there were different paces we were going at.

So I’m forgetting you. And that's all I can do.