Forget to Remember

The Curtains

I can't get up. I can't move because it just weighs me down. I can't breath. I can't smile.

The first time you enter, it may seem like such a bright place, such a lovely, bright place full of creativity and color.

But me, I lay here every day of my life, unable to move. And I remember The Curtains, when they held color, that meant something. I've sat here over the years and now The Curtains look gray to me; all their color sucked out by the dullness and the total unfocused quality of my eyes.

The dust has collected and the creativity looks unoriginal and old. Nothing is different anymore, everything looks the same, and the same looks like a mess. You try to pick me up, to move me and make me mean something like the color of The Curtains used to.

But I am the week-old dead goldfish in the bowl and you are the net at which touch I crumble into all the pieces my body has been decaying to.

I used to feel sad all the time... and The Curtains were always gray. I think I preferred that.

Instead, I try so hard to put the color back into the curtains and try to smile and it works!

But then this happens...

I can't move.
I can't move.

The Curtains are black now.