It’s a funny feeling, when you realize you’ve forgotten somebody you once loved.

On the other hand, it’s a bit easier to describe the feeling of being the forgotten one: painful.

It was a dreary Monday when it occurred to me that you might have forgotten who I am, who I was.

When I thought my heart couldn’t break any more, it did. Once I found out it was partially true.

I remembered even the smallest of moments we’d shared, and you probably didn’t remember my face.

I know I can make you remember me, but what could I possibly do?

What must one do to find a ‘likeable’ personality? A life inside themselves? How can one revive a dull, bland corpse?

What remains is the question, simple on the surface, but dreadfully complex once you dive deeper: How?