It's been a while since I can remember her birthday. I have been trying to, actually. I thought that it would be great if I could remember one thing that is not so...significant, you know?
Here's the justification.
I have been sacrificing a lot lately. Lost a lot, too. I thought maybe I could salvage something, a memento of my own memory for me to keep.
To hold.
But I couldn't even remember a single date.
I couldn't make sense of it. It could be an indicator of something worse, an unconscious sign that the depth of that cesspool of what I call my soul is after all, a shallow pond. Perhaps it's for the better. Perhaps this is the mark of the horizon. Of something better.
Perhaps, this is my way of telling myself that I am slowly becoming human. Flawful; forgetful.
I keep thinking why I would always come back to it. Trying to remember bits of nostalgia that I can, because I can't see and feel them anymore. They have ceased to exist in my book, and yet my heart remains vacant like an empty vase, waiting for any sort of flowers to be useful for.
I was only temporary, I suppose. And the price I have to pay for making them eternal in my heart, is to forget the smallest details that matters to me.
Because after almost a half-decade of this war, finally, the pain is taking toll on my physical body.
I keep getting sick these days. My physique is getting weaker. But enough about that.
I remembered this one time me and my sister, we were sending my mother to the airport. We were playing a game with the screen that shows all of the flight schedules and the places we wanted to go. We played with the alphabets, the arrangements.
The point?
I miss whoever I miss.
That's just that.
