It’s been years since I felt something.
Hundreds of hours reviewing my childhood with therapists;
Complex combinations of pills with tongue-twisting names;
Nothing helps.
This isn’t living.
I spend my time online.
No one knows me
In these liminal spaces;
Lurking on creepypasta forums
Like the white space between lines of poetry.
I like to see the urban legends
Evolving in real-time.
There’s a post
about a song
that gives you new memories
of things that never happened
and a link.
It’s preposterous;
I’ve seen this kind of shit before;
Hypnotic YouTube videos that change your eye color
Email chains that help you win the lottery
A cursed story that brings a homicidal clown to your window at night.
But I click it anyway.
And
it’s
EVERYTHING.
I remember my wedding day;
The rose petals scattered down the aisle,
releasing sweet fragrance under my heels;
My future husband staring at me
with tears in his eyes;
The warmth of his hands
as we vowed our lives to each other.
When the song ends,
Tears trace my cheeks;
My heart aches,
And it’s the sweetest thing
I’ve known in years.
I need more.
To my surprise,
Every listen is different;
The birth of my first child;
Receiving my doctorate in biochemistry;
Holding hands with my wife, our skin paper-thin and spotted with age.
I play the song on repeat;
It’s never enough.
At first, it’s subtle;
Dishes I thought I’d tried before;
Clothes I thought I’d worn.
Then I’d mention a trip
or a job
And my friends would look at me.
“You never did that.”
They think I’m a liar;
But I just can’t keep the memories straight.
What’s my childhood address?
Who was my best friend in high school?
What was the name of my dog?
Did I even have one?
I look in the mirror
And don’t recognize my face
And when I look away
I can’t describe it
Did I take a cruise with my fiancé?
Did I climb Denali?
Have I studied in Japan?
Have I done anything?
I don’t know
If people are calling me
Because I can’t recall my name
I step outside
and don’t recognize the skyline
So many faces pass
and I wonder which one is mine
I pass houses
and wonder if I lived there
where is here?
who is me?
there’s so much in my head
and i can’t tell
which is real
and which is
the song
wait.
what if
none
of it
is real . . . ?