i don’t remember.
i don’t remember the color of your eyes anymore. only the color of his.
i don’t remember what i forgot to do today. which is always the case.
why is it that when i’m charged with ‘write i remember’ or ‘write i don’t remember’
i can only think of the opposite thing?
i don’t remember why i ever stopped going to school. i don’t remember giving up so much of what i wanted to be and become for this life. it just happened.
i don’t remember ANYTHING. which is why i write down everything. for future reference.
and i don’t remember the really amazingly good times.
and mostly don’t remember the really horribly god awful times either.
i don’t remember.
i don’t remember the names of certain places i used to go. i don’t remember what streets looked like before they looked the way they do now.
i don’t remember people’s faces when i see them. i only remember things about them that are usually blind references rarely repeated to inspire the connection. because i am the queen of pneumonic devices.
i don’t remember why i didn’t kiss you. i can’t. for the life of me. remember. something about being stubborn and not just putting my face near yours to see if you accidentally put your lips where mine were. why didn’t i? fucking a.
i don’t remember why i stopped talking to him. i don’t remember why i wouldn’t just go for that one drink.
and i don’t remember if i had a big fight with her, or a discussion, or if one day i just stopped calling. or if she did.
i don’t remember because i block things out. especially hurtful things.
i hate that my brother keeps coming up here, because it’s so dark and fucking DEPRESSING, but i know that i didn’t go to the funeral, and i can’t remember what i did instead. i know where i was, but not what i did. and i remember a lot of food at our house. and that everyone was drinking ensure shakes for like a million years afterwards, because everyone seemed to think that we all just needed to drink. because none of us felt like eating.
i don’t remember a lot of things.
i remember smells, without fail. i remember the charged feeling in the air on very specific days of the year.
but i don’t remember street names anymore. i do remember how to get places when home for a visit, most of the time. but never specifics that would enable me to give directions.
one of the most aggravating things that i can never remember is: where did i leave that shirt? where did those pants go? i mean... seriously... i’m a very modest girl. it’s not like i take my clothes off and leave them laying willy nilly at people’s houses. so where the hell have all my clothes gone? i wish i hadn’t given so many back to the goodwills that they came from. and i only know of one shirt’s destiny. i knew it when it happened. and it was verified over 10 years later. at least it was loved to death.
i don’t remember the names of some of my teachers.
i don’t remember what happened after i made big decisions.
i don’t remember my logic when i was not writing, and apparently couldn’t think my way out of some really sticky situations.
again. i don’t remember what i don’t remember.
maybe this is why i am interested in hypnosis. but at the same time, i don’t want to remember what i’ve buried. is there a way to tap only into what i want to remember, and leave forever buried what i do not?
memory is a bitch.