There is not one moment that I wish I could do nothing but
Lie on the floor,
Lie on my back,
Reminiscing and thinking.
I'm a nostalgic wreck.
The thoughts of Wednesday afternoons in the park with my dad, driving around town with my mom, long nights of high discovery with my first love, shouting at my brother to turn his music down, they all fight my sick memory.
I want to remember all the old times, but their distance keeps me too close to tears.
Why can't I be in that purple dress, running around, sitting on my dad's shoulders again?
Why must I yell at mother with full resentment?
Why am I so alone without him?
Why is my brother not here to frustrate me daily?
One reminder of any of these things makes me
Loathe myself.
I cannot be who I want to. Why? Why, why?
I'll wait until I find the answer, but
I don't think I ever will.
Now here I am, I'm 87 years old, lying sick on my deathbed, similar to the position that I once lied in on my floor. I'm thinking of the same things, wondering why.
But this time, I'll feel guilty and filled with regret, because
'Why' is what held me back.
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