What was my first toy?

You'll ask a question. I can't answer.

"My memory is pretty bad, but I remember my childhood favorite," I say, nervous you may not like me already.

"Sure, why not?" I can already tell you're annoyed.

Now, what did I do? Did I make this harder for myself? Do I pick the Elephant or the Cat? The Elephant has a story, but I forgot a lot of it. And does the Cat even count as a childhood toy? I got her when I was in high school.

"I had a stuffed toy elephant I always slept with." I look up, finally looking at you.

"Oh really? What was its name?"

I hesitate. I missed it. "Um... I called it Ellie sometimes... and Sugar sometimes..." I say.

"Well, that's... why two names?" you ask. I can't answer.

"I don't know, I was a kid," I say.

"You don't know?" you say. I feel defeated by the simple question already.

"I don't know," I repeat back.

"Oh, okay. Well, mine was a teddy bear I'd always sleep with. I called him Bobo, and I used to take him everywhere I went and always accidentally got him dirty. This one time, I took him out to recess, and my mom was furious when I came home all muddy and had to wash the teddy cause I was crying about how Bobo was all muddy cause he was a white teddy bear." you say. But you don't stop there. You keep talking, and talking, and talking, and talking, and —

I smile, listening. This isn’t so bad.

When the world does the 24 hours again,

Without anyone remembering I am alive,

My little fire of an orange cat will crawl onto me –

-reach out and press my face with his paw,

He then kisses me.

The house burned down behind me.

The flames rose,

Inferno as it was.

The fear as I watched this fire made my body shake.

I remembered fear in a primal way that I had not felt since I was a child.

The neighbors mutter quietly about the fire,

But no real connections have been made

About any fire – that one, or any other,

Or about us, all as neighbors

In a neighborhood where we all watched that house burn

And heard a woman yelling about her cat.

When the world turns around again,

Each 24 hours as it does,

Most of these turns are full of longing and want.

The world is full of sadness, and I am full of ridiculous wonder

Without anyone remembering I am alive

My little fire of an orange cat will crawl onto me -

-reach out and press my face with his paw

He then kisses me.

Why do others get to let the darkness inside overtake them,

and I have to pretend that I am fine

and that nothing is wrong

and I'm not this huge,

depressed mess

all the time?

Physically I'm here.

Mentally, I'm hiding under the covers,

hair unwashed,

not wanting to eat

or drink

or see the light.

And it feels like no one cares.

Or maybe they just choose to not care.

I just want someone to see my struggle

let me cry

and tell me that it will be okay.

I want someone to acknowledge that I am keeping it together

and that it is okay to feel completely burnt out.

I just...

want someone to look past the mask

that has been plastered to my face for so long...

I thought I had the moment

I thought I had the time

I thought I had the words to say, but no they were lost- yes mine

I thought I had the moment

I thought I had the day

I thought I would see you take your last breath, but no time got away

I thought I had the moment

I thought I had the time

I thought that I could awake from this night mare

The one where you aren't mine

The value of having time is knowing that you have the chance to change your mind. We never change our minds until we are given the chance to speak with other people. You might have all the time in the world, however it might never be enough if you are the type of person who others never give the time of day because they will never give you the chance to change your mind.

A lone man wanders through a desolate forest. Trudging through thick snow he meanders like the last fugitive snowflake from a storm long since past. Nighttime surrounds him, he follows the direction of the wind. Looking up to the sky he hopes to find the weakest sign or call but is only met with the darkness, the silence.

Plants wither and decay like specters forecasting his own fate. Through the woodlands he sees nothing but trees who've lived to see more seasons than he has footprints in the snow. In the distance he hears the occasional plaintive cry of a crow or wolf before once again being engulfed by the silence. He can feel it now, the cold, icy grip, his mind is failing him, there's nowhere to go. He lays down as the complacent spectator to the erasure of himself, his mind grows as blank as the terrain surrounding him; he's now one with his environment, soon he'll be as pure and indifferent in conception as the shriveled plants and rigid trees.

The man had always followed the wind. Its direction wasn't always certain, its call not always strong, but tonight it whispers to him.

"Keep looking for glimmers of light in places where there is nothing."

He opens his eyes and for a moment the infinite black sky is no different than the oblivion from which he had woken up from. Then, in the distance, a soft, white star begins to glimmer plainly, and soon came another, then another. He looks for any discernible pattern or meaning in their configuration and realizes that they form Orion. Despite the veil of tears now clouding his vision, everything preceding that moment felt blurry and obscure. Now he could finally see; he staggers back up to his feet.

He doesn't know where to go. He stands alone in a vast forest and struggles to find one clear path to take. The last few drifting snowflakes fall to the ground and sunlight begins to break through the clouds. All he can do is walk in the direction of the wind, slowly, steadily, until he arrives at some distant light and finds refuge in a place he may call home.

Sometimes I feel

like a broken bell

Heavy and scuffed

But still shining

In the light

The sound isn’t

As strong as it was

But the tremors feel

Almost the same

When I ring

Up high in a tower

Looking down on

Spires and roofs

And poison ivy

And oak trees

What’s easiest to see

From all the way up

Is that everything else

Is broken too