Forgotten Longing

My whole life that I can remember has been spent longing for something I can never have and don't remember... Family. Along the way from being kicked out, I've lost most of my memories. I still remember laughing and having fun with my family. I still remember tedious feuds. But Time is an evil dealer and Time has taken the memories of the blurred faces in my past.

Every now and again, someone that looks like the outline of those blurred faces will pass by, but I know it's not them because when I had to leave, I didn't just leave the house. I left the state. And time took memories of how to get back, too.

Like is common coming from the slums, the ghettos or whatever you call it, I was kicked out for my addictions. Not just drugs and booze, but also relations with multiple partners, breaking the law in any way possible, gambling. Anything you can think of, I was addicted to. I'm surprised I don't remember getting kicked out sooner.

Nevertheless, I never made it to being a good person who could hold up a job long enough to make it off the streets. Sometimes, people will be kind enough to give me money, but sometimes people are cruel enough to steal it. I don't blame them. I used to be just like them.The only reason I'm not still is because the fading memories of my past life are the only thing keeping me going and I don't want my addictions to get in the way of me trying to make it back to the family I can hardly remember. I don't want to lose any more memories.

At some points, most of the time when I'm finding a place to hide from the sun, I see families and children running around the city in pure bliss. It warms my heart to see the children so happy. But it's a bittersweet flutter in my stomach. I can't help but wonder if their happiness was once somewhat like mine or if I even had any happiness with the family I don't remember. After the parents come, I always just smile, turn around and quickly get away from the heart-wrenching scene. It pains me to know that I'm the reason for all of my pain.

I've accepted my fate. I've accepted that I may not ever get to my family in time to tell them I'm sorry or that I'm trying to be clean and a better person or that I want to o better than I did before or any of the things I've only dreamed of. But I haven't lost hope of finding them. I will always keep looking. No matter how long it takes to find them. I will find them or die trying because that's what desperation does. That's what I know it'll take to prove, not only to myself, but also my family that I'm ready to at least try to be better.