Forget

I wish my mind was a tape recorder. I wish it was practical and socially acceptable to carry a notebook with me everywhere I went. To write as I think and document my every thought. To capture observations, put life’s minutiae down to ink and paper. Thoughts like gems, given permanence and physical evidence of their existence. Not retreating into the recesses of memory, forgotten.

The wastefulness of forgetting is a gnawing presence. I want to imprison my impressions of the world. Lock them up, freeze them forever, never forgetting. But I can’t. My thoughts are not gems for safeguarding. They are water, they are sand. They cannot be held in the palms of my hands. I forget, I always forget.

And then it's gone.

(written 9/4/08)