Whenever I want to forget something, I can't think of a fancier way than this: to recall one of the very first movies I've seen as a child. There was a scene there, where, to forget her past, all that the princess had to do was inhale the scent of a blue rose. Then... all memories are erased. You can start over. How pain-free is that?
For a few days I have been struggling with this resolve to forget something. Some part of my life- which in truth didn't really exist in the truest sense- but had lingered with me badly for years. It was like a drug. Every time things in my real world got screwed, that other life was the easiest escape. And I want to forget now that other life.
I could not truly justify what it was. The emotions that governed that experience could probably be classified as mere infatuation, raw attraction, like those feelings of adolescents who stare at posters of Kurt Cobain on their ceiling every night. For some time I thought it was one of the best things that ever happened in this life. And yet, everything dawned now that what happened in my life was just my own making. I could not fully credit it to that experience.
Did I waste time? Maybe I did. Did I waste strength? Maybe I did too. And yet, whatever beauty that experience gave, I want to throw it all to the universe who in the first place, made that experience possible the whole time. To put the experience into writing could be one of the best cures. The emotions were masked in figures of huge, deserted houses and withered gardens, and death and leaving of loved ones. For some time I believed that it gave me some liberation, some wings, some unseen sword to brave the storms of life. It did. And with the same liberation, my mind flew to another dimension and see that experience with a different sight: that it is beginning to ruin my life.
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