Do you remember?
The black one rode the wind at my command for more years than I can accurately estimate and when I abandoned it, I couldn't even spare a sideways glance of remorse, or even, at least, recognition.
Shouldn't I have known better? Having been made to feel more or less (mostly more) the same way.
There's a reason that, as a species, we quite royally suck. We don't remember. We reminisce but we don't really remember. We look back and see the things, that were way more than just things back when they happened, and feel empowered by the false sense of having survived. The losses suffered don't feel quite that monumental anymore and we think we are better for the wear but we just don't remember that with each loss we have now forgotten, there is a bit of our own reality that has also been lost. It is not maturity to learn to take it all in and bear the pain and turn the adversity into a cautionary tale to be forgotten when it is our turn to ram someone else into a wall and turn thier dreams to humpty dumpty, lying shattered and unfixable at someone's dirty, naked feet. Its just a bad fucking memory. Or a cruel fucking sense of preservation. Either way, it means just one thing: we are demons, one and all.
This is what I used to once believe, but then forgot, and now have remembered to forget again.
Do you remember?
The black one rode the wind at my command for more years than I can accurately estimate and when I abandoned it, I couldn't even spare a sideways glance of remorse, or even, at least, recognition.
Shouldn't I have known better? Having been made to feel more or less (mostly more) the same way.
There's a reason that, as a species, we quite royally suck. We don't remember. We reminisce but we don't really remember. We look back and see the things, that were way more than just things back when they happened, and feel empowered by the false sense of having survived. The losses suffered don't feel quite that monumental anymore and we think we are better for the wear but we just don't remember that with each loss we have now forgotten, there is a bit of our own reality that has also been lost. It is not maturity to learn to take it all in and bear the pain and turn the adversity into a cautionary tale to be forgotten when it is our turn to ram someone else into a wall and turn thier dreams to humpty dumpty, lying shattered and unfixable at someone's dirty, naked feet. Its just a bad fucking memory. Or a cruel fucking sense of preservation. Either way, it means just one thing: we are demons, one and all.
This is what I used to once believe, but then forgot, and now have remembered to forget again.
Do you remember?
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