When I began remembering,
there was no turning back.
I followed the thread back to the seeds
you planted at the very beginning
during the moments when you noticed I was distracted.

You thought I was a subject that could be observed and studied,
combed through like a Wikipedia article until mastered.
You saw an opportunity to manipulate my empathy
and use me as a weapon to make others jealous.
You hated the way their light illuminated your shadow,
but neither of us understood what kind of mirror I was yet.

When you mocked my slow processing speed,
you didn’t know it was just precision in finding it’s place in the pattern.
Each memory tied to a relationship of sound,
smell, emotion, touch and taste.
It takes longer to stick, but it sticks for good.

You thought my having aphantasia was a disadvantage,
that your ability to visualize in 3D and move things around
made you superior, but it actually just makes you a narcissistic sociopath and I have deep empathy for your pain I do,
I saw your narcissistic sociopathic dad strangle you until you turned blue.

But deep down he remembers that I saved your life that night and kicked him in the balls at the same time.
It’s your turn to break the cycle of silence.
You will learn humility from the pack animals that you work with, and what it means to be a part of a whole.

It’s why you kept me from remembering my body.
Relational felt truth can’t be corrupted.
Myths eventually unravel if they weren’t woven in reciprocity.
and that’s something you can’t just read about to understand.

You could create the conditions that made me forget,
bend my dreams towards the confines of what you define as safe.
Exploit my insecurities telling me that others were using me or being opportunistic all the while telling them that I was the one that couldn’t be trusted that I was unsafe.

When I said: “There’s an owl!” for a brief moment I remembered that I had eyes on the back of my head. But then you pointed at my face and said “that pimple is massive, let me pop it” lunging toward my face while I was in a psychically receptive state.

While my defenses were down you implanted your shame, and it became our shared condition, until I remembered where it came from.

You almost made me forget what it felt like to feel safe. You sacrificed my sense of security, to avoid having to look at the wound beneath all the shame. The shame of manipulating the only person who showed you unconditional love.

What you didn’t plan for was when my grandma died, she taught me how to believe in magic again.

You thought you bent reality to you,
but the dissonance was loud.
You convinced me that every moment of magic before you,
was only in my head.
You probably convinced them of that too.

I’ve seen you lie, cheat, and steal to get whatever it is you want.
Reptiles are predators after all. 

I come from a long line of ancestors who died for the truth, 
and I thank them every day.
You’ll eventually learn that gratitude is not weakness.

I tried to show you the mirror gently, 
hoping you could claim your truth
before I remembered.
I can’t hold your hand through it anymore,
since you believe my eyes are the ones that are hollow.

It was never about the money or the resources you extracted, that meant more to you than it ever did to me. It was about restoring justice to the truth, because where we’re headed it’s the only currency that matters.

And that morning when the Sun was in Leo opposing the Moon in Aquarius while forming a conjunction with Pluto, I danced for a future where we don’t repeat the past. 

And Pluto responded, restoring relational truth as it rippled back through time to the last solar cycle when the veil was thin illuminating the shadows you cast. 

But you wouldn’t understand that either because you think astrology is fucking stupid.