Piløt.bluɛ.chickɛn
Active member
- Feb 24, 2025
- 115
- 161
- Parrots
- budgie
I don't know if anyone will read this thread or not, but there is a poem I wrote that I would like to share, although I am only 17, quite a few of my teachers and peers admire my work. This poem is about the bond I have formed with my best friends dad who has dementia. And all the moments that I talk about in here actually happened (And I know that my username used to be Cali&Pilot, but I made that username over a year ago before I realized I was trans (I just figured out yesterday that I could change my username) and my name is Jaxon now, so that's the part where he called me Jamaica hopefully will make more sense now) I haven't shared this friend with my friend yet, but if you guys can read this and let me know what you think I would appreciate it.
"I'll remember for both of us"
He won't remember me tomorrow.
And somehow,
that's exactly why
I try so hard
to mean something today.
You told me,
he doesn't connect with everyone-
that it's rare-
that something has to click in a way
that it usually doesn't anymore.
So I don't treat it as if it's nothing,
I treat it like something I won't get twice
because somehow...
it clicked with me.
Although I don't know how,,
or why.
I know I won't waste it
He asks the same questions
as if they are brand new every time-
like he's trying to catch something
that just wont stay still.
And every time I answer
like it's the first time I've heard them,
because for him, it is.
And I don't mind,
I don't mind saying my name again,
I don't mind starting over,
I don't mind rebuilding something
that disappears overnight.
Because for him?
What we have?
Was never meant to stay in memory,
it was meant to stay in the moment.
He calls me things that aren't my name,
like I'm almost familiar,
just never quite fully placed,
"Jamaica"
like I'm something he's trying to hold onto
but can't quite find again.
Instead of making me feel distant,
it makes me feel seen
in a way I can't explain.
He asks if I paint my hair green,
if I walk backwards,
points at my septum ring
like its something he's discovering for
the first time-
"nose jewelry"
And every single time,
I answer him like it matters.
Because it does.
Because he does.
He matters.
And when he makes jokes-
even ones I already know-
that I've heard thousands of times-
I make them back
Like we're building something
that memory can't interrupt
Like connection can exist
without remembering it.
There was that time-
when pretending to be a train-
something that was small and playful
and it made the moment feel alive.
Though it only happened once
that's what makes it stay with me
Everything here only happens once
and that is what makes it mean so much more,
every time I'm here,
he gives me something that
I know I'll carry
for the rest of my time
Not because it repeats,
but because it doesn't,
like a painting,
no two memories will be the same,
no matter how similar they may seem.
He fills every room with laughter
a song he's creating the melody for,
the melody is the most important part,
and here he is making it
even though he doesn't even know,
here I am still singing along.
For him,
these moments exist fully,
and then they are gone,
although he forgets them,
I get to keep them
the moments,
the laughs,
the jokes,
the smiles.
You said you wish we had met sooner,
so that he could remember me.
And while I understand that.
I fear that if we had met sooner,
I would've only known one version of him.
One fixed story,
one memory that would stay the same.
But now I get all of them.
Every version that exists in a moment,
every reset.
Like reading a book for the first time
every beginning feels brand new,
a new first sentence
a new first chapter.
Not everyone gets to experience this-
to meet the same person
a thousand times
and still feel like it matters.
But I do.
So no-
he won't remember me tomorrow,
or my name in five minutes,
but i'll remember him
The way you can tell he's happy
without him having to say it
the way he connects- rare, but still very real.
The way something in him still reaches out
even though the memories don't stay.
The way he moves slow,
like time doesn't rush him anymore,
how his stubbornness,
is even gentle.
The way that he stays in moments,
the kind of moments that just talking about them,
makes you feel good inside.
And I'll keep choosing him back
i'll keep showing up,
ill keep showing up,
i'll keep laughing,
joking back,
walking backwards if I have to,
saying my name,
over and over,
like it's new every time.
Not because I have to-
Not because I feel obligated-
but because he is beyond worth it.
Being loved isn't about being remembered,
or remembering every second of every moment.
It's about choosing someone,
even if they don't realize they are choosing you back,
It's about putting in the effort-
to make the moment matter,
even if it won't always be remembered.
Maybe he won't remember me tomorrow,
but I will remember him,
every version,
every small moment that really isn't so small,
every laugh that makes your heart just a little fuller,
every joke,
every main character moment.
And I think the part that makes it real-
that I get to remember all of it
for the both of us.
He won't remember me tomorrow.
And somehow,
that's exactly why
I try so hard
to mean something today.
You told me,
he doesn't connect with everyone-
that it's rare-
that something has to click in a way
that it usually doesn't anymore.
So I don't treat it as if it's nothing,
I treat it like something I won't get twice
because somehow...
it clicked with me.
Although I don't know how,,
or why.
I know I won't waste it
He asks the same questions
as if they are brand new every time-
like he's trying to catch something
that just wont stay still.
And every time I answer
like it's the first time I've heard them,
because for him, it is.
And I don't mind,
I don't mind saying my name again,
I don't mind starting over,
I don't mind rebuilding something
that disappears overnight.
Because for him?
What we have?
Was never meant to stay in memory,
it was meant to stay in the moment.
He calls me things that aren't my name,
like I'm almost familiar,
just never quite fully placed,
"Jamaica"
like I'm something he's trying to hold onto
but can't quite find again.
Instead of making me feel distant,
it makes me feel seen
in a way I can't explain.
He asks if I paint my hair green,
if I walk backwards,
points at my septum ring
like its something he's discovering for
the first time-
"nose jewelry"
And every single time,
I answer him like it matters.
Because it does.
Because he does.
He matters.
And when he makes jokes-
even ones I already know-
that I've heard thousands of times-
I make them back
Like we're building something
that memory can't interrupt
Like connection can exist
without remembering it.
There was that time-
when pretending to be a train-
something that was small and playful
and it made the moment feel alive.
Though it only happened once
that's what makes it stay with me
Everything here only happens once
and that is what makes it mean so much more,
every time I'm here,
he gives me something that
I know I'll carry
for the rest of my time
Not because it repeats,
but because it doesn't,
like a painting,
no two memories will be the same,
no matter how similar they may seem.
He fills every room with laughter
a song he's creating the melody for,
the melody is the most important part,
and here he is making it
even though he doesn't even know,
here I am still singing along.
For him,
these moments exist fully,
and then they are gone,
although he forgets them,
I get to keep them
the moments,
the laughs,
the jokes,
the smiles.
You said you wish we had met sooner,
so that he could remember me.
And while I understand that.
I fear that if we had met sooner,
I would've only known one version of him.
One fixed story,
one memory that would stay the same.
But now I get all of them.
Every version that exists in a moment,
every reset.
Like reading a book for the first time
every beginning feels brand new,
a new first sentence
a new first chapter.
Not everyone gets to experience this-
to meet the same person
a thousand times
and still feel like it matters.
But I do.
So no-
he won't remember me tomorrow,
or my name in five minutes,
but i'll remember him
The way you can tell he's happy
without him having to say it
the way he connects- rare, but still very real.
The way something in him still reaches out
even though the memories don't stay.
The way he moves slow,
like time doesn't rush him anymore,
how his stubbornness,
is even gentle.
The way that he stays in moments,
the kind of moments that just talking about them,
makes you feel good inside.
And I'll keep choosing him back
i'll keep showing up,
ill keep showing up,
i'll keep laughing,
joking back,
walking backwards if I have to,
saying my name,
over and over,
like it's new every time.
Not because I have to-
Not because I feel obligated-
but because he is beyond worth it.
Being loved isn't about being remembered,
or remembering every second of every moment.
It's about choosing someone,
even if they don't realize they are choosing you back,
It's about putting in the effort-
to make the moment matter,
even if it won't always be remembered.
Maybe he won't remember me tomorrow,
but I will remember him,
every version,
every small moment that really isn't so small,
every laugh that makes your heart just a little fuller,
every joke,
every main character moment.
And I think the part that makes it real-
that I get to remember all of it
for the both of us.
