I arrived at an old decaying square in my city, where there was a playground painted mustard yellow, but the rust corroding the structures were more visible than the paint. The strong wind made the swings sway to the left, making a continuous irritating squeak.

I looked around and realized how neglected that square had been. I noticed a rotting wooden bench and went to sit down. I just hope it doesn't break, I thought to myself.

The chilling air sent shivers down my spine. The night came creeping in, silently, which made that place ever more depressing. I remember looking at my watch frantically. It was stupid of me, as if giving it a dirty look would make the slow, dragging time magically go from five to eight.

I was already counting the seconds in my head, shrinking in shame as a child in that bench―as a five-year-old who's afraid of the boogie man. And there I stayed for four hours and eight minutes.

I heard a resounding noise across the square and jumped clumsily, but strongly to my feet. I desperately ran towards that sound, yelling rowdily, “I knew it! I knew you would not forget me!”

When I finally got there, I was out of breath, but could see that the noise and the reason for my excitement were actually two dirty dying dogs fighting. I could no longer fight back the tears after I saw that. My face was all wet and I could hear my sobbing echoing in my ears. My body was shaking and I suddenly felt my knees go weak. 

I simply collapsed onto the cold floor. My mind betrayed my heart, showing me the obvious truth in a cruel and unfair way.

I was as neglected as those dogs, as that square.

Yes, they had forgotten all about me.