I remember.
I remember.
I remember.
I remember The Road to Elderado at Aunt Suzy's house. I remember watching it over and over and everyone hated it because I would sing a long at the top of my lungs. I don't really sing out loud anymore.
I remember Uncle Mike. What he looked like, what he did to me. I remember thinking I made it up, like I was just having a bad dream. But I read the letter a few months ago, and it made it real again. I don't like dreaming anymore. And I want to forget.
I remember the therapist. There was a little sandbox with marbles. We would talk a lot, I don't remember what I said. But she was nice. She had a New Zealand accent.
I remember Hungry Eyes. I hated that song, but mom would blast it in the car and sing and laugh because she knew it drove me crazy. Mom doesn't leave the house anymore.
I remember grandma's old house. The green paint, the wood floors. The bed that seemed gigantic, but I was just little. I remember being there when my little sister was born, and when my cat died. My cousin hated me that day.
I remember the night mom went to the hospital. It was late. I remember the lights flashing and not knowing what was happening. I was so tired. And we slept at the neighbors house.
I remember the water fights we had in the house. I never won.
I remember second grade.
I remember playing card games and making jokes with my dad. We were always so funny and sarcastic with each other. We don't really talk anymore.
I remember when me and Zack hid suitcases in my closet and would occasionally sneak food and clothes into them. We were going to run away. But mom and dad found the suitcases.
I remember eigth grade. It was one of the best years of my life. I was in trouble a lot that year, but I was glad I had some friends.
I remember meeting one of my very best friends in ninth grade. She talked to me one day and I thought she was weird. And she sat by me in computer class. She's still weird, but that's why we're best friends. She's one of the best things that's ever happened to me.
I remember when I met you and how I used to hate you, or tried to hate you. But that was four years ago and here I am still in love with you, only it's not a secret anymore. I still wish I could hate you sometimes.
I remember every memory with you. The ones that hurt. The ones that make me smile to myself. The ones I wish I could forget.
I remember August 27. It was raining.
I remember when the only time I swore was in my head, when I was the only one that could hear me.
I remember cleaning and dancing in the kitchen; singing so loud I thought Alaska would hear me.
I remember how even when I didn't know how, I used to write about you.
I remember when I used to talk to God.
I remember the first time I cut myself. On purpose.
I remember.
But sometimes I just wish I could forget.
