Never to Say

I had a lot of recurring dreams. Lately, I would dream about my cousin, Meghan. I never went to her wedding, and I knew that I should have. That regret has sunk in deep, turning out dreams of screaming matches and angry stares, and I did regret. Despite the circumstances of that time, I should have gone, but now I would just dream to apologize, an apology that she would never hear. And I don't blame her for hating me.

I had the dream this morning. Instead of anger, she was happy. She forgave me, and her eyes were lit with love. We always had a rocky relationship especially when I came to live with my grandfather right after my grandmother passed away. She felt like I was invading her home, and we went to war. In the end, we finally grew closer again, and then I went away.

The invitation came while I was at work. Her sister, my cousin's son was having a Bar Mitzvah. It was funny. I didn't tell my parents that I dreamt about Meghan. On the morning, where I dreamt that we would finally be okay, this invite came to my home. But I wasn't invited. Did it matter? Maybe, some other time and place, I would see her again, and I would say all that I had dreamed. Maybe, if I was lucky, there would be no screaming match, no running for the door.

My family had broken into factions. My grandparents held us together, and now they were gone. We drifted apart. Nobody saw anybody unless someone died, got married, or some other occasion. There were no phone calls, no visits, and no emails. We existed without being a part of each other's lives, and many years passed. Nobody complained, and now family were the ones that I lived with every single day, my parents and brothers.

They would never know me. This thought would haunt my mind, but did anyone really know me? When it came to me, people would see what they wanted to see or what I wanted them to see, but the real me was always buried six feet deep. When I opened my heart, my soul, it was when I would write, and the non-fiction that bites into cyberspace is a window into the woman that I am now. But I spent more time lost in thought, dreams, and imagination.

I missed my cousin. I hated looking back on my past because it was nothing but glass shards waiting to cut me, and it still took time to stop bleeding. I would trace my wounds, remember my pain, and know why I cried no more. All that I kept inside would remain, sometimes painting pages red, but I've learned to live with my demons, demons that still claw at my walls. No, nobody knew of my struggles unless written, and there would be no happy occasions to sit back and to laugh. I missed laughing, and only television shows and movies could bring a smile to my face. I missed life. I missed my family.

But time rolls on. I moved with it. I have remained behind the world for far too long, and now I tried to remain a step ahead. The shadow of who I was clung to my footsteps, but I'm not that girl anymore. Sometimes, I don't know who I am, but I'm here. I'm still here, trying to live my dreams, and make them real, and this gave me happiness, a rarity in my life. I'm tired of falling down, giving up, and being lazy, so I moved on. I chased the world, but I don't forget. Wherever my destination may lie, I would hope to see my family again. I would hope to see my cousin again.