“Our brain and his post graduation degree in “forgetting honors”
Sometimes, I try to stroll through the lush green shiny memory lanes of mine and then I realize that there are no lanes to cross at all. Forget green or shiny or beautiful or dull or the only adjective that remains applicable is extinct.
Why brain? Why u no remember?
It’s not just a sad little complain emerging out of the corpse(s) of answer sheet(s) bloodied with red ink marks and big big “F(s)” or 0s. There is more non-exam aspects associated with this issue. Memories! Who does not want memories? And since it is excruciatingly painful to have a big blank black paper instead of some vivid images of past, I have tried communicating to the administration above many times regarding the same ;
Institute of Memories
Subject: We need to talk.
I know you don’t like me (though I can’t say why). So many of you commit suicide the moment I make you enter the beautiful palace of my brain. Am I so disgusting? Is my brain so filthy? I don’t get it. And that’s why we need this talk.
I am a nice person. I would never ever harm you. You are pretty well acquainted with that fact. Then, why do you have to abandon me every time? Do you have any idea how despondent I’ve grown because of your rapid extinction! I miss you. I just mean comfortable lives for you. No harm. No SUICIDES. Is there anything that can be done to make this possible? I can’t tolerate my helplessness anymore.
But you don’t get it, do you? You and your weird kinds!
You just have to leave me deserted and never tell me why. Well, fuck you.
Okay, maybe not. Definitely not. I take that back! I take that back! But here’s the thing – The truth is that I need you. I love you. Why don’t you get it? Why do you have to suicide-zone me? Stay there with me, forever? I am sure there’s a way to make that happen.
Yours adoringly(no pun intended I swear)
P.S. I hope you would reply this time.
And this is what I got as a reply; ( Let’s just take this moment to be grateful for at least they replied.)
Sorry for ignoring your letters earlier but we were busy plotting you-know-what plans. It’s another new day, so we had to make you forget whatever shit you did till last night.
We understand your pain and your agony but we must tell that it’s not you, it’s us.We are weird. We like killing each other. Pardon our hobbies. But it’s for greater good. It’s a purification process. Sorry, if we sound too rude, but you make terribly terribly boring memories and a purification process is an absolute must. Yes, the palace of your brain is filthy. But it’s still beautiful. Truly it is. And it’s awfully large as well. We are so addicted to these vast spaces that we just don’t like it when it starts to get even a little crowded. How can we sacrifice our luxury over the boring memories you make? So, we go a little genocidal.
But the memories we kill die like a soldier in a battle. And they are commemorated annually (even if they are hopelessly vapid.)
Sorry, if all this cause you inconvenience but it’s the way we function.
Apologies, bitch. But can’t do nothing.
Yours as ever (a huge pun intended we swear)