Forgetting to Remember

I can’t remember when I have started to forget. Maybe way back when I tried so hard to remember that it gave me the opposite of what I’m trying to accomplish.


When I was a kid, I was not so happy. What caused the unhappiness, I could no longer recall much. But I have been happy, that pretty lot I can remember so don’t get me wrong. You know what they say about unhappy childhood? ... If yes, good for you, tell me about it when you’ve got the time.

And then I was a teenager and I found out I was not contented. So I dragged my days and daydreamed myself away. I was that typical teenager you couldn’t tell apart from the rest. Although I was not the one without friends in that lifetime because I have them fine—for I’m good at keeping the best ones I chose, positive that I’m good for them too— I was also in that place where I’m there and not at the same time. Off to space, in short.


I was left in a trance of sleepwalking, stumbling with each of my unsettled past balancing them all with the factors of my present. I was caught in between of questioning and answering and puzzling and riddling and ending up confused—back in the state I have always been comfortable.

And now, I can’t remember all those I promised not to forget—because I didn’t really but then I did... It’s a bit tricky, but I’m sure you’re kinda getting my point here. So. Do you know what they say about forgetting? I sure do.


I wasn’t too sure though if I’d get the same poll of answers as yours but one I have is what I’ve proven and tested based on my own becomings.


Forgetting is a state of being healed. It’s our body’s way of coping, a defense mechanism. May it be selective, unconscious, subconscious or (let’s face it) a conscious act, in the long run, when you forget, you’ve made the oblivious act of making peace with whatever garbage you kept along the way.


And garbage is what it is. I was not all too fussy about the forgetting, I was more concerned—curious—of when and how did it happened. And so maybe I’ll never know and I can’t really say I’m not all that glad. ‘Course I am. Just maybe, it’s more of the despair of not being in on the secret.


Of knowing I have it with me for the longest time, always conscious of its effect on me. Always thought it’s humanly impossible to ignore it altogether. But then, just like that, it’s gone. It’s thrilling me just to wonder when and where have I dropped it and which exact instance did I simply forgot to look back.

But whatever right. It is something bigger than my forgetting and remembering and all else in between. And if it meant I’m not supposed to be in on the secret, then so be it. I can live with it. If I’m blessed with the art of forgetting, then I have nothing but thankfulness in me.


We are blessed, that much we shouldn’t forget.






5.00pm 31july10 mlma
(Photos courtesy of Google.com)