Member-only story
You May Hear Me, But You’re Not Listening
And it only goes downhill from here…
It’s so easy to forget me.
I can pretend the realization doesn’t hurt, but I see the glaze in your eyes as you try to place me — who is this girl who looks so familiar? — and fail.
I could press the issue. I could insist I was your coworker a while ago. I could make a fool of myself just for the off-chance you’ll recall a glimmer of me in your memories.
But I know the truth. I’ve seen the same thing happen to others — male and female, ages varied, fellow coworkers and supervisors alike — and I try to tell myself that this is the moment it won’t bother me.
One girl I worked with for three years, and she couldn’t even remember my name the next time she saw me.
You? I expected better, but I should have known. Just because you had a kind smile didn’t mean that I wouldn’t be in the rubbish bin as soon as we parted ways.
The hurt comes slow, like an ache in the chest, and I take a turn about the room just to put some distance between us.
I’m sick of being forgettable.
But how does one change such a thing? If you don’t see me, what can I expect? If you don’t hear me, what do my words matter at all?
