Insidious II

Appearance of a past yet remembered. Or believed to be remembered. It’s unclear.

thousands are in here
                    not realizing where
                    might it be a space
                                            or                        far
                                               who will notice

                    thousands have been here
                                                    and yet
in an attempt                 to smile again
hazily awaken            are the thoughts
           of someone believed to be me
                                 but not
for he does not remember
           nor can know who I am               today


There once was ‘that one’, who had my name, and experienced what I now perceive as memories. There once was ‘that one’, with no name, not being aware of me but himself. There once was ‘that one’, with a father, a mother, a sister, a dog, a friend, a goat... with everyone but me. There once was ‘that one’ who got his first perfect grade, his first group hug, his first goal in a football match, his first kiss, his first job, his first deception, loss, fight, outcry… being someone who I’ve left behind.
And I had to.
Why would I not leave ‘that one’.
It’s just not possible to keep him in here. Where would I go. There’s no room for ‘us’. There’s room for me. For now…
There once will be ‘that one’, who will also leave me here. Where I’d rather stay, to let him experience, feel, and be.
And I might be forgotten. But I’m fine with that. By then, this place I occupy will not be mine anymore, I’ll kindly step back and join ‘that one’, who I will have left behind.

The little one in the picture is someone I remember, but he doesn't even recognize me. How weird. To feel oneself blurry. And to feel oneself unknown.

Áncash, Perú. 2002

‘That one’ and I are thankful for having you as a reader. Thanks for your support.

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