How much time does it take to truly forget? How many years... decades... will it take to just let that scalding event slip from one's mind... the vividness of its colours replaced by the comforting voidness of black... its clanging sounds muted and suppressed?
How many eons will pass before every little thing in the world stops reminding me of what I had done? How much time does it require for this icy fear to uncoil its grips from my heart and let me be free again?
Why in the world is it so hard to forget?
I just don't understand the justification behind the cruelty of memory. It imposes such specificity on what it chooses to retain. When you think about it, it does the actual opposite of what is required. When you desperately need to remember, say, the formulae of essential fatty acids for your life sciences quiz, you can't, for the life of you, make your memory recall it when your professor is staring you down with his uncannily bull-like nostrils flared in contempt. On the other hand, when you desperately want to forget the single huge mistake that you have done in your otherwise prissy life, you just can't.
You just can't.
Everything plots against it.
And I mean, everything. Even mundane things accept the chance to torture with glee. Key chains, novels, mobiles, earrings, that pair of jeans, this T-shirt. Your inbox. Your second piercings. Your bed taunts you when you are trying to sleep. The scars on your finger mark you for life. Even your veena, which you could've sworn was faithful, betrays you. You can't study because the GRE books keep chastising you. Led Zeppelin makes you feel sick. Even your city conspires against you. Billboards from the roads and theatres yell at you. That restaurant. This small street with broken pavements.
Everything... everything.
Just when you believe you've forgotten and regretted ever being so stupid, your realize your conscious was just giving it a rest. Since your unconscious memory is raring to go.
The nightmares.
They bring out the silent horror that haunt you all the time with a motion picture of your worst fears. It is so real... too real. You wake up in the dead of the night with your heart beating out of your chest and so much pain in your stomach, bile rises and you just can't fight it down. You are walking back to your room and before you know it, tears are pricking you uncomfortably at the sides of the eyes that have already shed too many. You laughter is too loud for your own ears. Too loud and too fake. Your smile never reaches your eyes. You worry over things that never bothered you before. Like that tiny white patch on your front tooth.
You try and regain control.
I'm alright, you shout. Five minutes from crying your heart out, you smile and talk about magnetic lines of force.
Oh, you cover up pretty well.
Or not.
Who knows?
The truth is, you are marked forever.
The pain of remembrance never ceases and never leaves you alone.
How many eons will pass before every little thing in the world stops reminding me of what I had done? How much time does it require for this icy fear to uncoil its grips from my heart and let me be free again?
Why in the world is it so hard to forget?
I just don't understand the justification behind the cruelty of memory. It imposes such specificity on what it chooses to retain. When you think about it, it does the actual opposite of what is required. When you desperately need to remember, say, the formulae of essential fatty acids for your life sciences quiz, you can't, for the life of you, make your memory recall it when your professor is staring you down with his uncannily bull-like nostrils flared in contempt. On the other hand, when you desperately want to forget the single huge mistake that you have done in your otherwise prissy life, you just can't.
You just can't.
Everything plots against it.
And I mean, everything. Even mundane things accept the chance to torture with glee. Key chains, novels, mobiles, earrings, that pair of jeans, this T-shirt. Your inbox. Your second piercings. Your bed taunts you when you are trying to sleep. The scars on your finger mark you for life. Even your veena, which you could've sworn was faithful, betrays you. You can't study because the GRE books keep chastising you. Led Zeppelin makes you feel sick. Even your city conspires against you. Billboards from the roads and theatres yell at you. That restaurant. This small street with broken pavements.
Everything... everything.
Just when you believe you've forgotten and regretted ever being so stupid, your realize your conscious was just giving it a rest. Since your unconscious memory is raring to go.
The nightmares.
They bring out the silent horror that haunt you all the time with a motion picture of your worst fears. It is so real... too real. You wake up in the dead of the night with your heart beating out of your chest and so much pain in your stomach, bile rises and you just can't fight it down. You are walking back to your room and before you know it, tears are pricking you uncomfortably at the sides of the eyes that have already shed too many. You laughter is too loud for your own ears. Too loud and too fake. Your smile never reaches your eyes. You worry over things that never bothered you before. Like that tiny white patch on your front tooth.
You try and regain control.
I'm alright, you shout. Five minutes from crying your heart out, you smile and talk about magnetic lines of force.
Oh, you cover up pretty well.
Or not.
Who knows?
The truth is, you are marked forever.
The pain of remembrance never ceases and never leaves you alone.
