Sequel: One-Hundred Days ›
In the Month of May
Day Thirty-One: Forget
Time makes us forget. Time is strenuous on our feigning memory, at best. These two elements, time and memory, work hand-in-hand. They work together to bring us closer and closer to that ending age that we reach in a perfect world. They work together, time and memory, breaking one down while building the other one up, to bring us into our last and final days, to take our living and breathing souls, our beating hearts, our hungry souls, and dissolve them into a familiar still corpse.
I forget often, I forget what I have done mere hours ago. I forget how it feels when I let myself go, but in reality, I don't forget at all, because I have never experienced that. I have never let myself go in fear of forgetting all the things I constantly think about on any given day. I think about these things and become scared to death of forgetting everything, forgetting who I am and what I have done.
My constant forgetfulness worries me. It makes me worry I am getting too close to death at too young of an age. I think and worry and forget about it the next day, the next evening, whichever happens to be closer. I think and worry and become scared for my slowly failing mind.
If it could be any other way, if I could remember everything, without fail, I would. I would let myself remember all the things I've done and the people I've met, from birth to where I am now. So many people take memories for granted, while I struggle to remember such simple little details like what made me smile the day before. I remember the action, but never the reason, and my memories are always fraying at the ends, torn in half from this.
If I could change it all and remember everything without fail, so clear and picture perfect, like the images nestled inside glass running along each shelf in my house, I would. I would in a simple stuttering heartbeat.
If I could only remember, stop forgetting, I would give up everything for it.
I forget often, I forget what I have done mere hours ago. I forget how it feels when I let myself go, but in reality, I don't forget at all, because I have never experienced that. I have never let myself go in fear of forgetting all the things I constantly think about on any given day. I think about these things and become scared to death of forgetting everything, forgetting who I am and what I have done.
My constant forgetfulness worries me. It makes me worry I am getting too close to death at too young of an age. I think and worry and forget about it the next day, the next evening, whichever happens to be closer. I think and worry and become scared for my slowly failing mind.
If it could be any other way, if I could remember everything, without fail, I would. I would let myself remember all the things I've done and the people I've met, from birth to where I am now. So many people take memories for granted, while I struggle to remember such simple little details like what made me smile the day before. I remember the action, but never the reason, and my memories are always fraying at the ends, torn in half from this.
If I could change it all and remember everything without fail, so clear and picture perfect, like the images nestled inside glass running along each shelf in my house, I would. I would in a simple stuttering heartbeat.
If I could only remember, stop forgetting, I would give up everything for it.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is the last entry for the 31 Prompt Writing Challenge. (:I would like to thank everyone who's read and commented and taken this idea for their own.
For anyone else is doing this challenge, I wish you the best of luck. (:
I've enjoyed writing a story each day, so for the next 100 days, I will be taking random prompts from the 100 Theme Challenge. If anyone would like to read those as well, they are already started here.
Thank you all again for each comment and just the simple act of reading. I appreciate more than you know. (: