Memory
I told you one day we’ll both move on. We’ll both find our way out of this intertwining roadmap where every
street leads us to each other, where we bump against one another at every twist and at every turn, where all signs at the corner of the road remind us of each other and what all we lost.
I told you you’d be the one to move on first, you’ll
forget me before I forget you. I told you it won’t be easy for either of us but it would be more difficult for me because I loved you and you just ‘cared’; because I listened to you and you just ‘heard’ me; because I wept for you but you just ‘felt’ for me.
I told you one day I would laugh at the words I wrote in my diary, the words of hurt and pain so strong that they would blind me when I would read them even after months of writing them. Well, I haven’t laughed in a long time, and I still cannot seem to laugh wholeheartedly at those words, no matter how hard I try. All I can muster is a dry, painful chuckle that sounds hollow to my own ears. But at least I can look at those words now, at least I can acknowledge what they meant to me and what all they represent now. I have moved on. And I know you have too, sooner than me, better than me.
Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard I try to completely wipe away the scars of time spent together, I will never completely forget.
I used to think Memory would catch up with me one day. I could feel it coming after me at times and I would block it, with all my strength I would block it. I would willfully, forcefully keep that ugly beast away from me so that I could live. It wouldn’t let me live. It kept bringing with it a whiff of familiar perfume, a lyric of a long-forgotten song, a
fading, deep, mischievous laugh.
But now it seems Memory has backed down. It doesn’t bother me a lot nowadays, it keeps to itself, though I can always imagine it plotting and planning, chuckling to itself, hoping to have the chance to pounce when I least expect it. But maybe it knows I have moved on so it is looking for a new victim, a fresh soul to feed on.
Today I stand at a juncture in my life where I cannot remember every single word you said to me, the words I thought I had memorized by heart, which were engraved in my soul. I cannot seem to remember them verbatim. And that scares me because that means your memory is fading and I am moving on. Your face is becoming a blur for my eyes were unfaithful, they could not imprint your image in my mind forever and that petrifies me because that means I am moving on. Your laughter is fading and I cannot remember the exact resonance of your voice and that makes me sad because that means I’m moving on.
Well, now the tears have dried, the letters have been burned, and the old heart has been sewn, mended, put back in place and firmly scolded to behave itself from now on.
I have come to the point where I can either go forward or go back - go forward to the place where there is complete uncertainty and darkness, where there is more hurt and more pain, where there is bound to be another one like you, or several like you, who will make me vulnerable again. Or I can go back into the cozy cocoon of my fragile dreams where I can think about you forever and ever and never let go.
But I choose right now, this very second, to move on. I choose to leave you and your memory - for I know you, too, have done the same. I hope you are happy with your decision. I’m not happy with mine. I am, however, at peace…and maybe, some day, I will be happy too.