Remember

I remember a time when I didn’t have any emotions. My tear ducts were what you could of called dry as the throat of a person who’s been in a coma for months. To laugh was to me as foreign as the language Arabic. But to feel would be like a person born paralyzed, numb and maybe, but rarely, a tingly sensation. At a young age, it was instilled in me that feelings don’t and won’t ever exist. I felt no pain. Didn’t even know what it was. Having a heart was unheard of. Then I grew up. No longer under the controls or running through this game called life like a Mario brother with my mom or dad handling the controllers. I had a baby. The sound of him screaming at birth was also the arrow that shot through and shattered my wall. I felt like the dam had broken. It broke way deeper than me pushing him out. The look in his eyes was so loud in my ears as I heard him ask me… “Do you feel that? That’s me!” It’s love. It’s life. Now I’m here and I want to forget again how to feel. Why lay here at night on this bunk that reminds me of the table at the morgue, thinking about the birth of my son or crying over them, taking two days for not signing out the last part of the day? I want to forget what tears are. I want to forget how to care. I need to forget life outside these walls. But what do I forget… of course I’m not trying to forget… How comfortable a bed is or how soft brand new baby skin feels.