To forget is to remember, because you’re always going to make sure you don’t bring up the forbidden. Then it haunts and taunts you, but it’s not really there; though its ever present. On the other hand, you don’t remember, remember you forgot, about that one time you wished was never made a memory.
Now it’s history, playing the leading roll as the extra that shouts during a silent film. Bothersome, a smile is usually a cure, these thoughts are even more minuscule when I laugh.
What’s on my mind? I’ve told you this story a thousand times, or maybe that was the one about when I was 11. I forgot I promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone, except the first person I see if I ever made it to Heaven.
I was thinking all of this when I was 7. 13 years later, wait…..what was I just writing about? I realize I’m looking in the mirror — wait….what am I crying about?
This isn’t really considered lying, if no one ever knows the truth. It’s not your apologue to pick and choose a heroine! I do what I feel is best, and from experiences we grow and come to gain knowledge.
At a young age wisdom pierced through my gums trying to break the silence, and instead of removing the pain, I embraced it.
I’ve been a victim of violence, I’ve been a master of persuasion. I’ve sacrificed my self for love and repeatedly been heartbroken by patience.
No medication, only Meditation.
On occasions I sit and reminisce about the memories I forget, write about them, and then burn the pages…..
I sit —
damn, what was I going to say again?