Amnesia?

It's a little bit funny how short people's memories can get. Shorter than a fuse. They just forget, poor things, it's a tot of amnesia, nothing much to worry about. I wish I could forget too. And I forget plenty to things, tell me one thousand times where I've put my keys and I'll still forget. The location of my keys is in fact one of the many things which makes me realise that my forgetting isn't worse than other people's. Is there really a time and a place to kick up a fuss just because no I cannot find my BettyBoop/Dolce e Gabbana/Cavalli key chain, together with the keys. I wonder why it's such a big bunch of keys I have. Who am I kidding? Do I want to look as if I have the key to everything? Or do people think that I have the key to everything? Well, dear other people, you're in for a disappointment, because I only have the key to my heart, and even then, I seem to keep misplacing it. Do you really need to drag me down just because my hand will not support my glass and I find it's dragged itself crashing down onto the floor. Am I the same as a glass? Am I being pompous in thinking that I have more worth than a glass? Don't you realise that the same woman who held your hand through thick and thin, the one who bulldozed her way through the thorny bush, the one who lifted you up each time you fell up the rocky path is the same woman who is just retiring into a black corner alone? The one who doesn't even look up because she is exhausted? Have you forgotten? And is patience too much too ask for? It is the same woman inside. Only, this time I am not asking. I will not beg in vain. Because that is just the way I am. Is it pride? Not really. And I may forget my keys all the time, but I will forever remember the hurt, just as I will forever remember the priceless hand given to me in the name of friendship. Am I mad? No, just sad.