I was that quiet girl in the back of the class.
I watched. I listened. I could feel my brain tense and absorb what I would forget years later.
This face belongs to this name. But what color were their eyes?
Remember the date of the death of a man who I will never meet, but long to.
What was his most cherished memory?
I wanted to be her.
My subconsious controls the conscious memories I mentally concoct in my dreams. Why can I remember these now while I can't even remember my homework?
What happened to the girl in the back of the class?
Listening. Watching. Remembering dates, faces, names, colors, numbers, signs, places, books, words, memories.
I don't remember.
I want to be her. Still.
My dreams are more pertinent, more lasting than the reality. Why?
Lucid dreams.
I can control you.
I'll make up a name and match it to a face. I'll fly away. I'll become what no one will ever suspect, and succeed.
I remember my dreams. I remember every face, every name, every voice, every word.
But why can't I remember my homework?
I remember who I loved. But in my dreams...
I can't.
The girl in the back of the class. Why can't I remember her anymore?
In the dreams...
She's grown up now.
Every day is a dream. I remember my dreams. I remember
When I was that girl, did I dream about me? About who I would be years later? I dream about who I was, but what about what I would become?
I miss remembering those faces, names, dates.
But, everyone has to grow up.
Everyone has to wake up. Sometime.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 12:57 PM UTC
I was that quiet girl in the back of the class.
I watched. I listened. I could feel my brain tense and absorb what I would forget years later.
This face belongs to this name. But what color were their eyes?
Remember the date of the death of a man who I will never meet, but long to.
What was his most cherished memory?
I wanted to be her.
My subconsious controls the conscious memories I mentally concoct in my dreams. Why can I remember these now while I can't even remember my homework?
What happened to the girl in the back of the class?
Listening. Watching. Remembering dates, faces, names, colors, numbers, signs, places, books, words, memories.
I don't remember.
I want to be her. Still.
My dreams are more pertinent, more lasting than the reality. Why?
Lucid dreams.
I can control you.
I'll make up a name and match it to a face. I'll fly away. I'll become what no one will ever suspect, and succeed.
I remember my dreams. I remember every face, every name, every voice, every word.
But why can't I remember my homework?
I remember who I loved. But in my dreams...
I can't.
The girl in the back of the class. Why can't I remember her anymore?
In the dreams...
She's grown up now.
Every day is a dream. I remember my dreams. I remember
When I was that girl, did I dream about me? About who I would be years later? I dream about who I was, but what about what I would become?
I miss remembering those faces, names, dates.
But, everyone has to grow up.
Everyone has to wake up. Sometime.
