Afterthought - Kaitlyn Rak

"His death was just an afterthought," I said, and you nodded in agreement. We had a bond, then.

By definition, an afterthought is something not originally thought of; it's something added in later. It hadn't occurred to whoever was doing the thinking when it really mattered. The very word itself implies how unimportant the subject actually is. Declaring someone's death to be an afterthought seems a bit of an exaggeration- even if it had been on a T.V. show- but that's how unceremonious it had felt. You agreed, so I couldn't have been too off the mark.

Was that all I was to you, in the end? An afterthought? For a while (if a few short weeks can be considered a while) it felt like I was at the forefront of your mind. You certainly held that position in mine. Other people had noticed your apparent interest, if that's what it can be called. 

It's funny how someone could mean the world to you, and they hardly realize you exist.

Will I even be an afterthought to you now? Will I even occupy that little space in your brain? Or will I matter even less than that? That's probably the case now, I suppose. You won't even think of me at all anymore, not even afterwards. I was just someone to pass an hour (or three) a week with, nothing more. Outside that room, I no longer exist. I wish I could say that you were less than an afterthought to me, now, but my mental hard drive can't be cleaned that easily. If only I could be so careless.