Congratulations! You've got a front row seat to the showing of what goes on inside my head. All my thoughts, laid right out before you in little black letters.
(This work is marked as mature simply for the fact that my thoughts don't always have a PG rating, and I'm sure most of you could say the same.)
I wonder what would happen if
Who would care? Who would cry?
Who would miss me?
I wonder all these things when, really, it doesn't matter.
Whoever cared, cried, or missed me would eventually move on with their life.
They would almost forget about me,
only to be reminded
when they see a photograph
or hear someone with a laugh
that they could've sworn was mine.
They might hear my favorite song on the radio
or read the books I had loved to read
or see the things I'd wanted to see.
And they might smile or cry at their fading memories of me,
but then they would move on yet again,
going on with their days,
as I sit and wait, wherever I am, to be