A Blip in Time

I'm in constant awe of just how long it's been.  Though you will never see my face again, I have only one question for you. Are you happy?  Is your life exactly as you pictured it to be all those years ago?  Was I at all a friend to you?  Did those years as children shout none but obligation?  I found breath on a day that is meant to be yours.  The miracle is that I found breath at all.  I hope at least that is enough for you.  I hope you remember that even in our distance, I am lucky to be here, typing these words because I found the will, the determination to see the colours of the sands, hear the songs of the birds.

Did I matter to you at all? Those days that seemed to stretch for hours as we played among the smiles of a flame. Now that I think about it, those summers, those days of breath that we shared, were nothing more than placeholders for you.  We met out of obligation.  I knew your name and laughed with you because life threw us together, forcing a twining between us.  I wonder if I cross your mind, if only none but once, for just the briefest of seconds.

I can't help but think it's all a blur, you've forgotten even my name.  But I can't expect very much.  We were children, thrown together by circumstance.  I may not remember every second but bits and pieces have stayed.  I remember thinking you'd be here forever.  How naive of me, laughable a dream it was.  You are there and I am here trying to piece together the threads of my existence.

A part of me questions if I know you at all.  Have you morphed to something, someone unrecognizable?  It's certainly been long enough.  Could I call you out on a crowded street if ever I saw your face?  I think I know the answer, even if I am not brave enough to place it across these pages.  I'll keep them in the files of my mind, spare you an inclination that you mattered to me at all.  Because the truth is, you did.  In a different life, in a different time, in even a world that no longer exists.  But here?  You don't belong here.

This is a world of pain and scarring that you were kind enough to leave hidden.  You know nothing of me, of who I am, and who I hope to be.  We are not children anymore.  No longer do I believe in an earth that houses only fairytales.  I know they exist and I know where they are, but you may not follow me to these places.  I am not who I once was, a stranger to you.  Perhaps to you I was never real at all.