Forget About It

by Nelson
September 19, 2014


I'm reading The Blind Side and the kid says,

"People ask me if I ever reach the top will I forget about them? So I ask people if I don't
reach the top will y'all forget about me?"

Forget About It

I said something terrible the other day. We watched a video and I laughed and told the
class:

I don't remember that student's name. I don't remember that student's name. Or that
student's name. And it wasn't a lie. I couldn't think of their names off the top of my head.

So here's how I sleep at night:

Let's just run the numbers. Two classes every semester, that's 70 students. So every year
that's 140 students. After 5 years, that's 700 students. Not to mention the four classes of
sophmores, that's 120 every year. After six years, that's 720 students. So that's over 1400
students in six years.

I mean, my heart is big, but c'mon...

Plus I have to remember my wife's birthday, what grades my kids are in, my social security
number, my anniversary, my address, my phone number, my top 5 favorite movies, my
daughter's voice, to get milk, where I parked the car, when I last mowed the lawn, when I
last wore this shirt, when the next new episode of New Girl is on, to take attendance, what
my brother Josh looked like when he smiled, that God loves me, where my keys are, to tell
my mom I love her, to call my dad on his birthday, my Skyward password,

plus a bunch of other stuff I can't remember.

So if I see you in a Walmart checkout line or in an old video, please forgive me if I can't
think of your name right away.

I promise, I haven't forgotten you.

Your name is just a leaf that hasn't dropped yet. So before a big windstorm comes by, do
something for me.

Remember when we made the dance video with Caden and Tara and everyone? Forget
about it.

Remember Tim's face when he was sitting back at my computer? Forget about it.

Remember when Lexi came back? Remember when Lon got up and read? Remember
when Sarah and Addie's blogs made us jealous? Forget about it.

Remember how excited we all were on the first day? Forget about it.

Remember how nostalgic we were at the end? Forget about it.

Remember how I struggled to get your attention because the girls were just too excited
about everything all the time? Forget about it.

Remember the day we tried to talk about Johnny, but nobody knew what to say? Forget
about it.

Remember how I made seating charts, but mos of you sat where you wanted anyway?
Forget about it.

Remember how fast this year went? Remember Valentine's Day? Remember jumping in
the air on Indie Day? Remember the story about the wise man and the bird and how
everything was in your hands? Forget about it.

Remember this: doo, da, doo, da da da doo doo doo #fancy

Remember trying to come up with a pen name? Remember choosing a blog template?
Remember when nobody knew who you were? Forget about it.

Remember when I told you to fall in love? Forget about it.

Remember the story about the autistic son who typed the words "I Am Real"? Because I
almost forgot about that.

Remember the paradoxes, the contradictions, the top 5s that I missed, the pictures of
journals I never showed you, remember the natives and the tourists, the hearts you saw and
the ones you didn't, remember what your bones said, all the lines from all the songs, and
every blog post you didn't read.

I feel like the girl in The Book Thief walking through the crowd of Jews whispering, "I
won't forget you, I won't forget you."

But I'm sorry. Because I can't stop bombs from falling.

zanny

April 6, 2015

tell me what you know about me.....
it's fascinating to see yourself from a 3rd person perspective
maybe insignificance is plaguing
but I need some reassurance that I actually exist

what are my defense mechanisms?
do I raise my eyebrows or cross my arms like you do?
do I smile as casually as you do?

do I look as bitter as I feel?

when people tell me their problems I love to listen
but truthfully I internalise it and blame myself that I
couldn't help them
because it's crushing to hear you've got anxiety or depression
and the potential that I've contributed to triggering it can
be daunting

but maybe this isn't about me
maybe it's about you

I may hurt a little, or a lot, or carry a lot of sadness
but maybe it's still more important for me to carry sadness
for you



why is everything so confusing
Maybe I'm just out of my mind



ps. rip, floyd :(

Lifeguards

In 1st grade, I was waving. [wave]
In 2nd grade, I was waving. [wave]
In 3rd grade, I was drowning. [wave]

In 6th grade, I was waving again. [wave]
In 9th grade, drowning. [wave]
10th grade, drowning. [wave]
11th grade, drowning. [wave]
12th grade, drowning. [wave]

I didn't become a teacher because I loved high school.

I did it for the money, money, money. [wave, wave, wave]

When I was 12 years old, my mother went to see a fortune teller. The lady told my mom that one day
I would pull a drowning boy from water and that I would spend the rest of my life trying to save
people.

I thought about becoming a lifeguard, but I'm afraid of sharks and I look weird with my shirt off.

So I wear sweater vests to work
and when I see young people waving in the halls,
I look twice to make sure they're not drowning.

Sometimes fortune tellers get it right. And sometimes they don't.

You know what. Excuse me, sir. Would you put your phone away, please? I asked you to hold all
questions until the end. No, you may not use the bathroom. Don't make me call home. Pay attention,
follow along. Don't clean up while I'm talking. The bell doesn't dismiss you, I do. You, in the back, get
your head up. No, you may NOT use the bathroom. Don't make me repeat myself. Don't make me
repeat myself.

(Sigh) Maybe I should've became a lifeguard. Maybe I did.

I mean, yeah, we work opposite seasons. But we have more in common than you think.
Lifeguards and teachers. We got into it for the right reasons. For the children. For the summers.
Parents rely on us and teenagers ignore us. We both have big plans. We're going to save up to buy a
car, we're going to save the world. We were both going to save the world. But we spent more time
blowing our whistles, telling kids to stop running, than we ever did diving in and saving people.

We make less than we should, and everyone thinks we have it easy. Each August adds another five
years to our faces.

But we're not the only ones. No matter what you choose to do with your life, it probably won't go as
planned. Lawyers got into it to find the truth, but they're too busy looking for technicalities. Doctors
got into it to heal people, but they're too busy checking insurance cards. Police Officers got into it for
the chase, but they're too busy filling out paperwork.

We'll spend the next offseason wondering if we're doing what we're supposed to. Then some random
Tuesday, a kid with a shaved head will wave to us, and we'll decided to do it all over again.

Silent Car Rides

by Sarah Michelle
October 31, 2014

You didn't see the chapel scraping to fill halfway,
or the heartbreak of people smiling through tears.

There's something morbid about little girls in a graveyard.
Something about pink sweaters against pale bodies and taking roses to take them,
not to put them on the casket.

I've seen too many funerals in my 18 short years.
The first time I met death was at 7 years old:
and here I thought I paid my dues.

but the painful decay of a hospital is something I haven't learned to deal with,
and I think God will keep giving me silence filled Emergency rooms, until I learn.

the florecent fish in the hallway are the
only things that look remotely happy,
but if you take a closer peek, you'll see
they're just as miserable as the rest of us.
Cooped up like prisoners in this clown house of grief

Oxygen monitors. Complimentary cheese cubes.
Questions and prayers that God can't answer.
If you think your few months of college have seasoned you into adulthood,
wait until you hit the grill.

Heaven couldn't wait for you

by Posh Spice
April 6, 2014

When I was little I thought everyone lived to be 100. Then after that, who knows.

I didn't care.

I was alive and well.

Or at least I thought.

I thought I was invincible and nothing could break me.

Until I was broken.

Until I broke some bones, ripped my skin beyond natural repair and got diagnosed with things I didn't know existed.

I didn't know you could die in car crashes, and sink in a boat, or get trapped in an elevator. Life to me was as simple as 1, 2, 3. But that's because I didn't know about 4, 5, & 6 yet.

I used to know you. We were as young as they come, yet we knew it all. Simple minded beings were all we were, yet it worked. We played on the frosted December grass because it was fun to play outside. We didn't want to wash our hands because we didn't know what germs were. We didn't look both ways before crossing the street, because we didn't know that cars sometimes didn't stop.

But cars sometimes don't stop, Amanda.
Cars sometimes don't stop.

One of the first things you learn is "Look both ways before crossing the street." But I guess she never caught on. I mean it was hard to teach a girl that never listened. It's not even she couldn't listen, she didn't understand.

That's why it was safer to play in the house, cars can't get you there. People can't kidnap you there. Trees can't fall on you there.

But you liked to take risks.

You were my first best friend, because you were all that I knew. I'd wake up and you'd always be there soon enough. We would play tag and you'd always seem to win. We would play Barbie's and you never seemed to catch on that you were supposed to be Ken. You just liked to chew on their feet, or play with their hair.

I'd get mad. "Get that out of your mouth, are you stupid!!?" Then I'd hit you and you'd run away. I was too young to understand life doesn't work in ways you want it to. I didn't know you wouldn't be there till I was 100 playing Twister or scootering next to me.

But you tried to get back at me. You'd make up for it by scratching me, or screaming so my mom would come running in the room for your rescue.

You bitch.

I still cringe to this day at always getting in trouble because of you.

They said you were too young to be outside. But I didn't listen. I locked you out of the house when no one was looking. But I watched you just to make sure you stayed in the yard and didn't get hurt.

Couldn't you tell I cared about you?

You wandered farther and farther till you got to the front yard fence, and stopped. I opened the door to let you in because I assumed you had enough.

But then I stopped.

I stopped. Why did I stop, Amanda?

I should've gotten when I did because I knew you. I knew by the way your back was arched and the twinkle in your eye what your next move is.

But I couldn't seem to stop watching you on the other side of my sliding glass door.

It was almost as you looked back at me to give me one last goodbye before you climbed that fence. I didn't know how you did it. You practically jumped over without touching it.

You made it on the other side, and that's when I decided you had moved on. I thought maybe you'd just gone to the neighbors to play with girls your size and same views on life.

I kind of forgot about you for an hour or two. It was weird, because we all did. I remembered you when I looked at my Barbie feet. That's when I was forced to walk in to the biggest mess of my 5 year old life.

The sky was cloudy and the ground was wet, but the sky was finished crying. It told me you were there and it already moved on.

A leaf stuck to my foot just as I stuck to you. I kicked it off and watched it gently fall to the cement as if it were telling me to go back in the house.

The trees rustled telling me not to go over that fence. But I argued with them telling them I'd be okay. Little did I know they weren't concerned for my safety.

As I hopped that fence I saw Amanda. You were so beautiful in the street. Almost as if you were a painting in a museum.

But you were so still. Why didn't you get up?

"Amanda come here!" Nothing.

"Come here Amanda, I'm sorry!" Nothing.

I ran to get her, but she didn't move. She was as still as summer nights. She was so beautiful, with almost a smile on her baby face.

My mom came out and took me back inside.

I didn't cry.

I just asked where she went.

"Heaven."

Then I knew you didn't live forever.

You only lost one life, but Amanda, where did your other eight lives go?

Where did they go?

People lied.

Your kind is supposed to last at least fifteen years. You didn't last one.

You were my best friend, but come to find out

Heaven couldn't wait for you.

You won't even notice that I'm gone

by AndreaLee
October 20, 2014

To him.
You've always told me how I saved you life. We met and exchanged
numbers, but what I didn't know is that you had severe depression. And
your deadline was in 7 days.. you have no idea how happy I was to know I
gave you the gift of procrastination.

We were best friends and you told me everything. We loved each other in
an inescapable way. Basically family. And that's why I wasn't allowed to
love you differently. But I have bad habits, so I loved differently anyway.

My best friend came into the picture and it seems the 'best friends brother'
thing really intrigued her. And again, I have bad habits, so I told her she
could have you. And you loved her. That hurt. Bad habits really do die
hard.

You broke her heart, but her leaving broke you. Literally. You became as
monotone as Mr. Hinton. Or rather, more so. And you never show any
emotion anymore. I tell you I'm here for you. I promised I won't leave. I
love you. And all I get is an 'I know'..

I won't leave   I know
I love you.      I know
I promise        I know
I won't leave..
….I love you..
.. are you even there? I feel as though I'm talking to a computer.. Please,
what's wrong? Just talk to me.. do you even care..?…
Please come back

… please..

You're hardly around anymore, the only emotion I get from you is when
you talk of your unrequited love for her. The rest of the conversation only
consists of one-word replies. You only have questions when they're about
her. And all the answers to my questions circle my numbing body in "I don't know's..

I'm sitting here wishing you would come back. I'd do anything to make you
feel something, even if you hate me by the end.. It would be better than
nothing….

"If I were dying, would you do everything or even anything to save me, or
would you just cry because I was dying?"

"I don't know"

Do you even care anymore? There was a time when you pledged your life in
place of mine. Now you don't even know?

I think the worst thing about this is you mean the world to me. I'd give my
life just for you to live again. I crave your smile more than Nutella. I
think about you every night, worrying about you, laughing at the
memories through the frantic tears. And I still want you, you who no
longer wants me..

They all tell me to let you go. And we both know I should. It would be best
for me to turn away, run, and never look back…

And it hurts, because we both know

You won't even notice that I'm gone.

-JQP

Mix Tapes

by Suzy Bishop
April 9, 2014

One day I am going to forget the way that your skin smells and you're
going to forget the way that my hair looks when its down.

Maybe I'm hypnotized. (I think I am)

Or maybe you are.

Maybe Hypnotists and magicians aren't real. (I hope they are)

Maybe there is such a thing as too much love... But lets not think about
that because I like the way that love feels.

I'm scared to know what the color of being helpless looks like.

Would you make me a mix tape? If you want to know what love is, It's a
mix tape.

Did you know that when we are together, I forget everything else that we
do that day because the only thing that mattered was that we were with
each other? Silly.

It's probably a good thing or probably a really bad thing that neither of
us know how to say goodbye.

I'm pretty sure my soul is on fire and I have lost all hope of getting it
under control. I guess I do Know what the color of hopeless is.

I have to keep my thoughts to myself because there is no way that you
will understand them. I don't like how easily secrets get spread.

July will come and I'll still be here. My Hands will Wait for yours. But
please don't let me hold you back. You'll have to remind me because I'm
selfish, remember?

-S.B.

So basically, I'm a 6 year old that swears.

by pleasefindmehere
February 25, 2014

First day of high school tomorrow. What the hell was I thinking? I went to school to
register and I saw the sophomores over there like "nom nom nom..." Kids are roaming
the halls lie it's a completely normal thing to do during class. And the librarian did not
want to give me my books until the computer system was up and running.

Today I cried in the dressing room again. And I cried when I left treatment today for the
last time. I'm leaking. Like a broken pipe. Like a water bottle you left in your backpack.
Like like like.

Reasons I'm still six years old:

• I like to color.
• I like chocolate milk.
• My mom makes my snacks for me.
• I am picky picky picky about my foods touching.
• I can't cartwheel.
• I look for yellow cars everywhere I go.
• When I think about my "first day of school," I swear I'm not sleeping tonight. Even though I woke up late for the first day of my senior year. I never said it had to make sense.
• I miss my imaginary friend.

And I keep beating myself up even though Nelson told me to carry my crayons with me

wherever I went.

You, you tourist.. You that won't ever read this. You're the one who will tell me I'm not

innocent enough to be six anymore. And you're right. You. You're the life of the party

but you're too afraid of opening up anything but a bottle of beer. BTdubs, your friend

messaged me on Facebook last night telling me you'd been thinking about me. Lies. And

I was upset with all these intrusive memories of you. The day we sluffed seminary and

kissed the whole time in the park. The times you told me I was never as pretty as the

girls you hung out with. The night we... And it all shoved past my careful wrought-iron

gates. Those ones which I had ordered specifically after you. After you had broken down

the cement walls, the brick enclosure, and stumbled blindly, effortlessly into my heart. I

was too broke to order anything else. Well friends with benefits after relationships

never do work, dear... That's why I'm back to building. Erecting more gates. Ha. Erect.

Guess I'm not a six year old anymore.

I saw you at the dance last week, yeah you that commented on my blogpost telling me

we'd find each other. I know who you are. And when I stopped dancing and looked

behind me, I saw you. We even made eye contact, which was kind of a big deal for me.

And I'm sorry I stared. Listen, I tried to catch your eye, thinking if you looked long

enough, you'd see. "Maybe you were looking, but you weren't really seeing." But it's my

insides you'd recognize.

And if you see a girl with a shock of blonde hair that looks like she knows where she's

going, but doesn't want to go there... please be nice to her.

Ten bucks that's me.