“Our brain and his post graduation degree in “forgetting honors”
Sometimes, I try strolling across those lust green shiny memory lanes of mine and then I realize that there are no freaking lanes to cross. Green or shiny or dull or burnt or anything.
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 it as well. Memories! Who does not want that?
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 quite many times in order to resolve this crucial issue;
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. And you know that. You are quite 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! I miss you. I just mean comfortable lives for you. No harm. No SUICIDES.
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. Fuck you.
No, I take that back! I take that back!
The truth is that I need you. I love you. Why don’t you get it?
Why do you have to suicide-zone me?
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; ( I am glad 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. And you do know that space has always been like so cool. How can we sacrifice that? So, we have to 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)