There's that moment in everyone's lives
when you reach, and miss. It's a frightening
concept. The inevitability of it. The idea
that your hand gets so close, and yet the
space between feels as if it is truly infinite.
The opposite of a black hole spaghettification.
What a silly word for a terrifying concept
Instead of you being pulled to it, it instead
extends back, stretching out to the point
while in your heart you know it's only
so far away. And yet it remains just that.
Away. Unattainable.
Yet, it's even more dread-inducing when
that swing-and-a-miss is within your own
mind. When grasping at straws turns to
grasping at mist, and wondering if the
condensation on your hands is enough.
Sure, it's one thing to lose your keys,
but it's another to lose an entire childhood.
That first moment of realization that a
memory is more than forgotten, it has
been wiped from your mind.
Do you remember
how your first birthday cake tasted?
Do you remember
what it first felt like to pet a dog?
Do you remember
the sound of the first bird calls outside your window?
Of course not. Not anymore.
Are you sure you want to permanently erase the items in the Trash?
You can’t undo this action.
And you never clicked yes.
Your brain did. It didn't consult you.
But you have to live with the lack all the same.
Those deep holes, filled with nothing. Covered
in the futile sheet of "Oh I'm sure I'll remember"
and other people retell the stories until your most
remembered moments are nothing but words
that you heard
as if they
were talking
about somebody
else
