Remembering is an involuntary act of forgetting.
If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him. Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.
This is where there is a straightening. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what we deserve, but it is about what is deserved from us. The rest of it will happen. We are a series of accidents, strings of white lights, the fistfuls of sounds that have been waiting to crack our town open and make it come alive. Darling, it doesn’t matter if we’re there yet. We’ve been looking at our own shapes for a very long time and waiting for something to mold us into something better. Well maybe it doesn’t work that way. Let’s throw a rock into the ocean, shout something unexpected and honest, paint over one shitty memory at a time. It doesn’t mean forgetting, it means that we’re ready to be all right, for the first time in our lives. It’s okay to be scared. Everyone is scared of something. Look at our spines, look at what we’ve done with the bruises. We have everything that we need.
When the person you can never forget doesn’t remember your name, you’re completely intact but it hurts all the same. They can let you go casually even when you have made them the center of your world. They can’t see you even if you can’t look away. You formulate questions and yet still receive the same feeling and you hurt.
It’s really an irony. It will take you a thousand nights to smile again but he’ll be fine in a day. Then you find out how much you meant to him or how much you didn’t. You’re living in these memories that you already forgot. You thought that it was a fair trade, but one of you put more in, and he didn’t even want the exchange.
You can’t help the fact that you’re not what he wants but that doesn’t excuse your acting so nonchalant. You wonder if he’s saying that there isn’t even a twinge of what used to be. Or are you worth a niche in his memory. You’re confused and lost in that quiet mystery, figuring out how you came to be just a name in his history.