i wonder if i should click 'save'
novelty is oblivion. eternal sunshine of the heart requires eternal darkening of the mind and memory. to constantly find today's sunrise unsurpassedly beautiful is to forget - willfully unremember - every sunrise that came before. love today is necessarily the erasure of yesterdays.
or is it? forgetting lends itself to dispossession; dispossession to cycles, endless repetition of the same mistakes. this goes for all history - of kings, of states, of people, of love. perhaps novelty is something old, newly. perhaps today's sunrise is coherent only as a sentence in the epic history of all sunrises - that the past needs to matter.
i've always liked to think my self is impeccably historical, but the truth is, I'd learned painfully that forgetting can be insidiously willful. only in the act of unremembering can we find respite from having been somewhere we didn't want to be, didn't think we would end up, hurt people we had never intended to hurt. horror from love begets erasure. the greatest irony is that in the desperate pursuit of novelty, conscious or not, what I found was repetition - the same sentences penned on top of each other, black and etched into a page so soggy with unwanted memory that it grows too heavy to turn.
the result? stasis. stasis, through the farce of progress.
as it is, then, I'm wary of any sense that I'm breaking out of a vicious cycle, like the small child who cried "wolf" (read: love) one too many times. but the other day I found myself curled like a fist on my bed, as the anguish of past memories rained down in darkness. the pillows dampened under me; hot saline guilt burned ravines into my face. it was like a reckoning. at times like these I would give a lot for a reset button on my life; but would I have learned it any other way? how do you amend for an academy of emotional error? where does one dredge up the audacity to even begin?