The pain of forgetting


We cling to remembrance
the way newborns cling to their mothers’ back
I believe this is because we consider ourselves to be the sum of our past.
My past, my past, & my past-me
What I’ve heard, what I’ve seen and what I’ve said, is who I am
We regard human experience as a linear slash in time
A scale
tilted to the past
Forgetting becomes insanity when memories become identity
When by losing the name of that author you read a couple of months ago,
Or the face of that childhood friend
means losing yourself as well
We believe ourselves to be a walking clutter of memories

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