i have forgotten the way it used to feel, everything. i’m not sure i want to remember, i’ve lived in the past so long. the past is ever new but occupies that same space in my brain which is withered.
there was once a girl with timid smokestack lungs. when her mouth opened wide, paper white teeth sank, greedy, into the air. she had nervous hands and wild, empty eyes.
one day, it all dried up in the summer heat and she never spoke again.
I’ve forgotten your name, sir. Would you tell me your name, sir? Please, sir, I’ve forgotten. It isn’t that you, yourself, have been forgotten. Please don’t mistake me for a fool, I remember your face- yes- but it is your name that has slipped my mind. So, if you would be so kind as to remind me, sir, we could continue on with our everyday lives.
i do this alot, i get it from my mom. i forget the randomest things, yet i remember the most unimportant little facts. but sometimes that can be a good thing. i forget dates alot, and names.
I will never forget you
you live down the street
I went to the grocery store
hoping you would be there too
You won’t be forgotten
but I must forget you now.
Wow, how many things have I forgotten lately? I’ve forgotten how much fun it is to run, I’ve forgotten how much my thumb hurts when I try to set a volleyball, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be loved, I’ve forgotten what a sore throat feels like. What we forget is lost to us, but yet we can still gain it back through our multitude of experiences.
I used to think about all my memories so they wouldn’t be forgotten. That’s what i think i thought anyway. But then again. I guess most of them were forgotten somewhere along the way. And I was re encountering a thought that had never really been. It was the reminisce of the forgotten.
The image had flashed through his mind like a million slim bolts of lightning hurled down furiously from the heavens. He had done nothing noticeably, or triggered any concievalbe catalyst, to conjure up in his mind the lost and forgotten image of his long deceased companion.
I’ve forgotten who I used to be. I used to have morales, respect, hope for my future. Now it seems that I’m just another one in the crowd. I drink, smoke, party, binge, and degrade myself for attention. Who am I? All for a boy? Why doesn’t he see me the way I saw myself?
I remember that day sitting on the front steps of the church with Erica Mejia. Her mom left her. Just drove away. I wondered what it felt like for her. Being forgotten. Left behind. Alone. I cried with her that day.
I hadn’t forgotten you. I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t even resent you for forgetting and ignoring me. So what makes you think you have the right to be mad at me for not answering a phone call. I was busy! And although I tell you all this…you still ignore me…
Today I feel forgotten. Also like I’m swimming through a pit of vague self pity. You know. All that jazz. I hate feeling forgotten. Or unwanted. I think about it and it turns me into the this ugly, self-absorbed, unhappy person. Gross.
forgotten nettogrof what does it feel like to be forgotten? having no one wonder what you’re doing? no one missing you, no one caring if you’re dead or alive.
my friends…i feel like my old friends have forgotten the fun times we have had…even my current friends have forgotten how trustworthy i am and i need someone to need me. People have forgoten im there.
you forgot about me. you left me here by myself to deal on my own. oh where did you? its just like you, running from your responsibilities. you could have made things better but you chose not to and thats not my problem.
All is not forgotten no matter how old we get! WHile the attention span and the memories may somewhat fade, the beauty and love we have experienced remains in our hearts forever!
I don’t want to be forgotten. Its like a bad taste in your mouth. I want to be REMEMBERED. Never forgotten. Never lost. I want to be on a path. Not a lost road of forgotten memories. For to be forgotten is to never be loved. I will be loved. AS&SA.<3
forgotten. I forget a lot, myself. I don’t mean to, it just sort of happens. I’ve thought about this before and I’ve decided it’s because very few things make an impact. Kind of sad. shieeeet. I still have 20 seconds. Oh well, I forgot.
I feel like I’ve been here before. Seen these things, these faces. But I can’t for the life of me remember where. It isn’t deja vu. The people here remember who I am, the people here remember. It seems it is I who has forgotten.
I have forgotten about you, time. I have forgotten your name. It is far, far in the past that you were mine. But that is all gone-now. Now I have history to my back and comfort to my side. Now I have future looking at me straight in the face with nothing to show for it.
I had forgotten how much fun it is. Just throwing the ball around, being with friends. Being ahead of the age curve was frustrating for so many years, that by the time the game experienced skill equality, and you could just play for the fun of playing, I had forgotten how much fun just playing was. It’s amazing how much more fun a game can be when you take out the winning and losing and just enjoy yourself.
something you don’t remember. Or someone you don’t remember. Someone you left behind and didn’t think about again. Someone all alone remembering others who don’t remember them. Something you know you need, but don’t have. That feeling in your gut when you realize you forgot something.
lily smiled to hide the pain. “of course that’s okay, you…you go have fun sweetie.”
todd smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “thanks sweetie. i owe you one.” he walked quickly out the door, yelling for his friends as he went. as soon as she heard the door slam shut like every day that week, lily once again plopped down on the couch and looked at their wedding photo. a warm tear traveled down her cheek. forgotten.
alone and unloved, the good things I did have been unremembered for convenience. Not mine of course, but clearly I’m not the one who matters here. Clearly I’m the one who has been forgotten. I don’t know what I did that was so wrong to land me here or how I managed to be considered so evil.
These are the toys in the back of the closet. The feelings of good when your surrounded by feelings of misery. The forgotten are those that used to mean the world, and that now live in solitude at the bottom of one’s subconscious.
Things are forgotten all of the time. I’ve forgotten things uneasily forgotten. I’ve forgotten the face of my father, the warmth of his hug. I’ve forgotten how to laugh without thinking “at what price does my joy come at?”. I’ve forgotten the simple joys of life, like just watching the world around me pass by while I stand still. Most importantly, I’ve forgotten myself, before the tide of people came in and took what they wanted from me.
i’ve never been able to forget him. the love of my life. my high school sweetheart. yes, i actually have a high school sweetheart. & one day i hope to see him again. until then, i guess i can always continue to fake it with my husband…
What have i forgotten? Will it matter in the end if I forgot too much. perhaps forgetting is our way of giving ourselves a break from remembering all there is to do or all that should have been done.
i forgotten what it was because i dont know what to write its vry hard to write out a sentence when not thinking about it. its weird to just pick a word and write about it ive never done it befre. its very different. I cant decide wat to write because i dont know what im writting about oh yeah it was forgotten. Why am i doing this? am i really that bord or is it that fun?
Always forgotten. Every single time. He’d go to sing the words, get two lines in and then nothing. He regretted it, their collaboration. He could no longer sing those songs that her words were woven into now that he’d left her. He’d forever have a reminder of their long relationship; there was no escaping what they’d been through. And now she was gone. He wrote over their history with someone new.
I had forgotten. I told myself I never would, but it slipped my mind without my permission. I didn’t think that something so traumatic would become a mere memory long lost, but that’s what it’s become. Thank goodness.
When a person is forgotten it’s hurtful to them. If they are forgotten because they have gone on a trip it won’t be as hurtful as if they forgot them as a friend because they were replaced, that can send sword through the heart.
twenty things to be forgotten, starting from this time yesterday. grocery list left on the counter in the kitchen, wallet left in the car, i forget what was needed here, life and mind of the elderly
I feel forgotten sometimes. Like no one even cares. I help everyone else but do they help me? NO. So I feel forgotten. Like I don’t matter. Which is bull. I despise helping people all the time. I mean what about me? Don’t I deserve help?
i have forgotten the way it used to feel, everything. i’m not sure i want to remember, i’ve lived in the past so long. the past is ever new but occupies that same space in my brain which is withered.
there was once a girl with timid smokestack lungs. when her mouth opened wide, paper white teeth sank, greedy, into the air. she had nervous hands and wild, empty eyes.
one day, it all dried up in the summer heat and she never spoke again.
I’ve forgotten your name, sir. Would you tell me your name, sir? Please, sir, I’ve forgotten. It isn’t that you, yourself, have been forgotten. Please don’t mistake me for a fool, I remember your face- yes- but it is your name that has slipped my mind. So, if you would be so kind as to remind me, sir, we could continue on with our everyday lives.
Dreams, memories, and childhood experiences are forgotten, but they are never erased.
i do this alot, i get it from my mom. i forget the randomest things, yet i remember the most unimportant little facts. but sometimes that can be a good thing. i forget dates alot, and names.
I will never forget you
you live down the street
I went to the grocery store
hoping you would be there too
You won’t be forgotten
but I must forget you now.
Wow, how many things have I forgotten lately? I’ve forgotten how much fun it is to run, I’ve forgotten how much my thumb hurts when I try to set a volleyball, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be loved, I’ve forgotten what a sore throat feels like. What we forget is lost to us, but yet we can still gain it back through our multitude of experiences.
I used to think about all my memories so they wouldn’t be forgotten. That’s what i think i thought anyway. But then again. I guess most of them were forgotten somewhere along the way. And I was re encountering a thought that had never really been. It was the reminisce of the forgotten.
i wish not to be forgotten. but my legacy will live on in you, my love.
I was forgotten in the last turn of the earth. The last shadows of the trees, swept the ground running towards me. I was scared, but no more.
The image had flashed through his mind like a million slim bolts of lightning hurled down furiously from the heavens. He had done nothing noticeably, or triggered any concievalbe catalyst, to conjure up in his mind the lost and forgotten image of his long deceased companion.
I’ve forgotten who I used to be. I used to have morales, respect, hope for my future. Now it seems that I’m just another one in the crowd. I drink, smoke, party, binge, and degrade myself for attention. Who am I? All for a boy? Why doesn’t he see me the way I saw myself?
I remember that day sitting on the front steps of the church with Erica Mejia. Her mom left her. Just drove away. I wondered what it felt like for her. Being forgotten. Left behind. Alone. I cried with her that day.
I hadn’t forgotten you. I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t even resent you for forgetting and ignoring me. So what makes you think you have the right to be mad at me for not answering a phone call. I was busy! And although I tell you all this…you still ignore me…
There are man Mostly friends and family. Not nearly as many as my mother with Alzhiemers. Lost but not forgotten.
Today I feel forgotten. Also like I’m swimming through a pit of vague self pity. You know. All that jazz. I hate feeling forgotten. Or unwanted. I think about it and it turns me into the this ugly, self-absorbed, unhappy person. Gross.
you are not forgetten we will always remember you, you will always have a place in our hearts forever.
forgotten nettogrof what does it feel like to be forgotten? having no one wonder what you’re doing? no one missing you, no one caring if you’re dead or alive.
my friends…i feel like my old friends have forgotten the fun times we have had…even my current friends have forgotten how trustworthy i am and i need someone to need me. People have forgoten im there.
you forgot about me. you left me here by myself to deal on my own. oh where did you? its just like you, running from your responsibilities. you could have made things better but you chose not to and thats not my problem.
All is not forgotten no matter how old we get! WHile the attention span and the memories may somewhat fade, the beauty and love we have experienced remains in our hearts forever!
I don’t want to be forgotten. Its like a bad taste in your mouth. I want to be REMEMBERED. Never forgotten. Never lost. I want to be on a path. Not a lost road of forgotten memories. For to be forgotten is to never be loved. I will be loved. AS&SA.<3
forgotten. I forget a lot, myself. I don’t mean to, it just sort of happens. I’ve thought about this before and I’ve decided it’s because very few things make an impact. Kind of sad. shieeeet. I still have 20 seconds. Oh well, I forgot.
I hate this word!
I feel like I’ve been here before. Seen these things, these faces. But I can’t for the life of me remember where. It isn’t deja vu. The people here remember who I am, the people here remember. It seems it is I who has forgotten.
I have forgotten about you, time. I have forgotten your name. It is far, far in the past that you were mine. But that is all gone-now. Now I have history to my back and comfort to my side. Now I have future looking at me straight in the face with nothing to show for it.
I had forgotten how much fun it is. Just throwing the ball around, being with friends. Being ahead of the age curve was frustrating for so many years, that by the time the game experienced skill equality, and you could just play for the fun of playing, I had forgotten how much fun just playing was. It’s amazing how much more fun a game can be when you take out the winning and losing and just enjoy yourself.
something you don’t remember. Or someone you don’t remember. Someone you left behind and didn’t think about again. Someone all alone remembering others who don’t remember them. Something you know you need, but don’t have. That feeling in your gut when you realize you forgot something.
lily smiled to hide the pain. “of course that’s okay, you…you go have fun sweetie.”
todd smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “thanks sweetie. i owe you one.” he walked quickly out the door, yelling for his friends as he went. as soon as she heard the door slam shut like every day that week, lily once again plopped down on the couch and looked at their wedding photo. a warm tear traveled down her cheek. forgotten.
alone and unloved, the good things I did have been unremembered for convenience. Not mine of course, but clearly I’m not the one who matters here. Clearly I’m the one who has been forgotten. I don’t know what I did that was so wrong to land me here or how I managed to be considered so evil.
These are the toys in the back of the closet. The feelings of good when your surrounded by feelings of misery. The forgotten are those that used to mean the world, and that now live in solitude at the bottom of one’s subconscious.
Things are forgotten all of the time. I’ve forgotten things uneasily forgotten. I’ve forgotten the face of my father, the warmth of his hug. I’ve forgotten how to laugh without thinking “at what price does my joy come at?”. I’ve forgotten the simple joys of life, like just watching the world around me pass by while I stand still. Most importantly, I’ve forgotten myself, before the tide of people came in and took what they wanted from me.
i’ve never been able to forget him. the love of my life. my high school sweetheart. yes, i actually have a high school sweetheart. & one day i hope to see him again. until then, i guess i can always continue to fake it with my husband…
What have i forgotten? Will it matter in the end if I forgot too much. perhaps forgetting is our way of giving ourselves a break from remembering all there is to do or all that should have been done.
i forgotten what it was because i dont know what to write its vry hard to write out a sentence when not thinking about it. its weird to just pick a word and write about it ive never done it befre. its very different. I cant decide wat to write because i dont know what im writting about oh yeah it was forgotten. Why am i doing this? am i really that bord or is it that fun?
Always forgotten. Every single time. He’d go to sing the words, get two lines in and then nothing. He regretted it, their collaboration. He could no longer sing those songs that her words were woven into now that he’d left her. He’d forever have a reminder of their long relationship; there was no escaping what they’d been through. And now she was gone. He wrote over their history with someone new.
I had forgotten. I told myself I never would, but it slipped my mind without my permission. I didn’t think that something so traumatic would become a mere memory long lost, but that’s what it’s become. Thank goodness.
When a person is forgotten it’s hurtful to them. If they are forgotten because they have gone on a trip it won’t be as hurtful as if they forgot them as a friend because they were replaced, that can send sword through the heart.
twenty things to be forgotten, starting from this time yesterday. grocery list left on the counter in the kitchen, wallet left in the car, i forget what was needed here, life and mind of the elderly
I feel forgotten sometimes. Like no one even cares. I help everyone else but do they help me? NO. So I feel forgotten. Like I don’t matter. Which is bull. I despise helping people all the time. I mean what about me? Don’t I deserve help?