The Looking Glass 2022-23 | volume 41 | Seite 32

Things I’ve Lost

Prose Poem

by Saudah Munshi

My math homework: January 2022, I lent it to my friend the day before and she told me she had lost her binder in the library, which had my math homework in it. She never found her binder, and I never got my math homework.

The idea that soulmates exist: February 2022, I lost my “soulmate”. But to be fair, I thought everyone who stayed in my life longer than three months was my soulmate. But everyone left- physically or emotionally, because that’s life. I think.

My black-framed glasses that would always slip off my face because they were too big: March 2022, I was rushing back to the school from lunch, because I didn’t want to be marked late, it had slipped out of my pocket on the way. 

The $10 I kept in my pencil case: April 2022 in gym class, freaking out, because I hated asking my parents for money- made me feel bad. I was planning on buying a new mascara that my friend suggested.

My oversized navy blue hoodie I’ve had since fifth grade: May 2022, In the H&M fitting room after trying on about a thousand pairs of dresses and not even finding the right one. Was not worth losing a sweater with so many memories.

The bond my sister and I had: June 2022, we’d stay up all night until one in the morning, in her room, having the most random conversations. Whenever I try now I always get kicked out with the “I’m tired” excuse.

The stuffed unicorn my friend got me for my bday: July 2022, my mom had cleaned my room unexpectedly and when I asked her what happened to the pink unicorn sitting on my bed she told me she had donated it to charity because stuffed animals are for babies.

My temper: August 2022, on our vacation to Buffalo, New York, my sister had used my gel without asking, and I was running out. We got into a heated argument and I got blamed, because “it wasn’t that big of a deal”

My best friend: September 2022, we both agreed we both needed a break. But that break never ended, it’s been months. Now, whenever we pass each other in the halls there's this awkward tension in the air, that we both pretend like we don’t notice.

My Halloween candy I earned after walking house to house on Cedar Lane with my friends: October 2022, The next morning only the gross candies were left. All my siblings denied taking any. Lies.

The thoughts about caring what other people thought about me: November 2022, I came to the realization that we’re all just a bunch of meat sacks on a floating rock and no one’s going to remember us, so fuck it, nothing matters.