Where you forget, because that is what we do, but you also remember

You have forgotten haven’t you?

You have forgotten what it feels like to run. Just run. Not fast, not slow, but just run. To feel your own feet, yes our own feet, pushing you and carrying you and stamping down on the ground.

You have forgotten what it feels like to get into that rhythm, where your arms swing just a little bit and you are running. And you can feel the wind in your face and the sun is not too harsh. So when you look up, you can see the sky and the clouds and you can feel the smile that is creeping across your face. Feel the smile, and with it the slow stream of happiness that flows into your blood and towards your head.

You have forgotten that pain that starts somewhere in your legs and builds slowly and slowly. When you have to breathe harder and faster, and you suck in the air. You can feel the air run down your stomach, you can feel the sweat.

Like a lot of things, this seemed a lot better in my head.

I have forgotten but I am also beginning to remember. And that feels good.

You can forget to write you know. You can actually forget. The words will no longer be your friends; they will hide in this deep darkness where you cannot see a thing and all you want to do is wait and wait some more.

But you can remember, you know what it felt like. What it was like. What it was.

And that is important because then you know what you are looking for, the signs in the darkness will slowly be read. And you will walk the way of darkness because that is the only path.

But you will walk and you will remember.

It is our memories that makes us what we are. There is precious little otherwise.

The memories we have, and the memories we must make.

This is not funny. No, not everything is meant to be.




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