i am scared they won't remember all of me

I am aware of the fact that I'm unique 

People tell me that all the time:

That I'm memorable

Bringing sunshine to a room

Leaving the ones I meet with an impression of my smile

Engrained in their minds like a snuffed-out cigarette on the skin

I know my laugh echoes in their ears

Because I laugh with my entire being, not just my chest

They'll remember my love for life and my colorful wardrobe

I know those parts will be missed when I'm gone

But light always casts a shadow

Part of me is scared they won't remember the rest of me

The parts of me I'm embarrassed of

The parts that show I'm not as happy as people think

I'm scared they'll eventually see the dark I leave behind

And run for the hills 

Until It's only me and the moon 

I'm scared they won't remember, or even notice

The way I bite my nails, not just when I'm nervous, but when they don't match the lengths of those on my other fingers

And how I impulsively search for pimple scabs to pick where the hair on my head thins out on my neck;

How I often sit in the garden by myself and count how many bees I see

Convincing myself that their population isn't dwindling and everything is fine

Or the way I scream-cry in my car at night when no one is watching 

And yell when I'm overwhelmed

I'm scared they won't notice me when I'm quiet

Won't notice the particular way I do my laundry

Or how I hate using the same word twice when I'm writing, but that I'm getting better at not caring as much

I'm scared that they'll only remember me when I have something to say

That when I'm gone, they'll mourn my absence

But cherry-pick what they miss and what they don't

They'll smooth my edges as the little ridges that make me, me fade in their memory.