an ode to the name you're still saved as on my phone

salvaging memories that were bloody victims of time

To be saved as a contact in my phone is an honor. Many people stay in nameless limbo, forever identified by their nine digit number. Only until you become a constant in my messages do you earn a the right to your government name. Only if you have graduated from acquaintanceship will I attach a photo. A rare few get the sacred nickname or be are part of the pinned group chat.

Ironically, many people I once knighted with a nickname are also the ones I now wish I could forget. A nickname is for the person who’s real name is so familiar to your lips that it fails to properly embody your closeness. For that closeness to fade into estrangement is deeply unsettling. It shatters your trust. If that person couldn’t stay in your life forever, then who could?

A poem a wrote that embodies the feeling of salvaging memories that were bloody victims of time.