memoire.

May 12, 2013 § Leave a comment

Just the other day, I ran into a boy who went to my middle school and who I hadn’t seen in five years, give or take. I don’t remember much from middle school and I don’t really care to remember all that much, but I remembered him for the sole reason that his last name is my first name and he used to tease me about it. I would have been perfectly content walking right past him without a word. Quite unfortunately, and to my great surprise, he cocks his head to the side and exclaims, “Joyce! Last name girl!”

“Max,” I acknowledge with a sigh.

If you don’t know me, I am one of the most outgoing people you will ever meet. If you don’t know me, I am open and coy, all smiles and eager friendliness. If you don’t know me, I am an easy conversationalist and generally just happy to be meeting you. In short, I’m real nice and dandy if you’re just a recent acquaintance. If you don’t know me in the sense that we went to the same elementary school, the same middle school and the same high school, and you stood by the assumption that I was just a girl who was sad and serious all the time, then that’s a totally different case of not knowing me. And Max doesn’t know me in the latter way.

“You went to Viscount right?” he asks.

“Yeah. And you disappeared.”

“I moved schools.”

I know this already and I never really cared what happened to him, so I don’t know to say. I never know what to say to people I knew but never actually cared for in middle school. In fact, I feel a sort of apathetic resentment toward these people because middle school in my mind is covered by a great big black hole that has sucked away all of my memories from that period. All I know is that I was such a weird kid back then and I never felt as though I fit in.

“Right…” I say.

“You remember Josh right?”

“To be honest, I don’t remember a whole lot about middle school.”

“Oh… Well, you used to write all the damn time and your first name is my last name.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I reply. I was beginning to get bored of the conversation.

“It’s too bad you don’t remember much, considering you were always writing in your diary.”

Just like that, we walk away from each other. I am left feeling like I had no idea what just happened, or whether it happened at all.

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