I’m sitting here eating dark chocolate, partly because I just finished dinner and so it’s time for dessert, but also partly because it makes me feel better. Actually, correction: Mostly. Mostly because it makes me feel better. Yes, it’s sweet and bitter and leaves a deliciously satisfying, dry taste in my mouth, and it makes me feel better. And I just want to feel better. Is that too much to ask for, to feel better? I don’t think so.
You know, I saw a quote the other day on Twitter: “I write to remember — and sometimes to forget.” I don’t know who originally said it, but it’s really freaking accurate. In all ways, shapes, and forms, it’s just accurate, and it made me realize that, my whole life, that’s all I’ve been doing: writing to both remember and forget. And that’s scary. I’m not quite sure why, but it is. It just is.
Maybe it’s because there’s things I want to write about but can’t. At least not yet, anyway. They’re…I don’t know. I don’t have the words to describe them. I want to say serious, personal, secretive, and stuff like that, but that’s not quite right. No, my adjectives would need to be on a whole other level, actually, like, like…classified. Yes, that’s it: They’re classified — always have been and always will be, as per orders of those around me.
And it’s funny because, due to my constant writing, my constant escape from this world (whether on paper or in my head), even though they weigh down on me at times, they really do become things I tend to forget. And I’m grateful for that, for I don’t know how awesome of a person I would be if I always let them get to me.
But, unfortunately, that’s not the case tonight. No, tonight was a bad night, and so I’m remembering everything, everything that I can’t write about because it’s sealed away with the many promises I’ve made throughout the years to never open my lips. Never. No matter how much I want to, and no matter how much I need to, I just can’t.
I’m thinking that, one day, I’m going to buy a padlock and write something significant regarding all this on it and lock it onto a bridge somewhere in this ridiculously amazing world just so I can have the burdens gone for good. I mean, sure, prayer helps a lot with that, the erasing of burdens, and, sure, a lock is only symbolic, but still; I’m only human, and as cheesy as the lock thing is, I like to think that it would feel nice — be very freeing and such, in that tragic-yet-hopeful-yet-cheesy film sort of way.
And do you know what’s beautiful? I’ve already forgotten about all that was bothering me. Well, sort of. Maybe it’s more accurate to say that the sadness of what was bothering me has, for the most part, gone away. Whether this is due to the writing or the chocolate, I honestly don’t know, but either way, none of this even really matters anymore. And that’s what I like most in life, when things don’t really even matter.
So I guess the last thing I’d like to say here is that I wish I could go back to being a kid, even if just for a moment, for even when things would get rough back then, I never really ever knew that they were such. Sorry if that’s random, but, boy, that was nice — and would be nice, if I could do that again. Ignorance truly is bliss, friends, and maturity a curse. One that we all face, yes, but a curse, nonetheless. So I’d like to return to the non-cursed times, if possible.
But, unfortunately, I can’t, so instead I’ll await the day where I can talk about everything I’ve ever wanted to without breaking promises and burning bridges and bringing scandal down upon everyone I know. But until then, forgiving and forgetting is key — the key to the happiest of lives. And so that’s what I’ll be doing, forgiving, forgetting, and just trying to stay happy. That’s not so hard.