Grudge Forgiven

I can't remember.
'Twas the reason I'd cried for months,
and I can't remember my first steps.

I remember the house,
and how I couldn't find my way about the maze,
but I don't remember the tears I cried.

I remember the new place,
the dumbfounded school officials,
but I can't remember my first day.

I remember the new classes,
the isolation I experienced and my dismay,
but I barely remember my first class.

I remember the students and teachers,
the lectures, and new people who'd introduce,
but I can't remember who I met first.

I remember his introduction,
the flirting which I'd missed and played into,
but I'm beginning to forget why.

Why do I forget?
I move on and cry less with a little help,
yet the memories will still bring back tears.

Why do I forget?
The faint glimpses of the house fade faster,
and I'm caught in a maze once again.

Why do I forget?
The school I went to, versus the one I ended at,
the first class is ever turning to mist.

Why do I forget?
How did the classes begin? I know I was behind,
but did I ever catch up to my peers?

Why do I forget?
My teachers names escape my memory,
old friends tell me names of which I know not.

Why do I forget?
I've blocked out his voice as I avoid conversation,
and I've forgotten exactly what happened that summer.

It could be
my way of finding a way to move on.
I'm starting another new life.

It could be
my view of home is elsewhere,
as I make plans for my future.

It could be
that high school didn't matter to me.
I've moved above as college came to call.

It could be
that I'll never see them again
and what are they to me, beyond acquaintances?

It could be
that I've found someone new, someone better.
I'm not dependant on him to live anymore.

I'm not going to say
that I didn't benefit from those months of crying.
It seemed to help me mature.

I'm not going to say
that I don't expect my room to be ready for me.
I know where I'll be sleeping when I visit.

I'm not going to say
that I didn't get a good laugh from the confusion.
I never knew that people could be so dumb.

I'm not going to say
that I had an awesome first semester,
but that AP Spanish class was fucking hard.

I'm not going to say
that people weren't friendly,
but no one seemed to make a very lasting impression.

I'm not going to say
that I didn't care for him in any way,
but he's gone from my life now.

I will admit that
I've moved on,
to new places far greater than the desert.

I will admit that
"Home" isn't defined
as my mother might want it to be.

I will admit that
I've grown because
of the abrupt changes I encountered.

I will admit that
those classes saved
me so much time that I now have for myself.

I will admit that
the people grew
with me, and helped me to be better, smarter.

I will admit that
experience with him
is helping me learn with my newfound Love.

I've forgotten where the time went
while I was in despair,
but I've learned that life moves on.

I've forgotten what I thought
my life should've been,
and I'm accepting that it's going to be different.

I'm learning to love others
for exactly the right reasons,
and I've stopped trying to please.

I'm learning that friends will
be there when you need them,
and be happy for you when you don't.

I'll accept that she may
hold a grudge against me for life,
but others still aren't afraid of caring.

I'll accept that it's time for me
to move on from the blame.
I'm alive and that's all that matters.

I've learned to forgive
no matter what she may do from now,
my grudge is gone and I love her.