“Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,
What can I do to kill it and be free?”

 – John Keats


I haven’t really figured out yet how memory works. How suddenly our brain decides to show us couple of events that happened some time ago. How it lets us live those moments all over again. No matter how brutal or how happy things were, it forces us to let those memories seek something deep within us that we thought was long forgotten.

Now, I don’t really know how the brain functions, but I do know that a touch, a smell, a kiss once registered cannot be forgotten no matter how hard one tries. How beautiful and brutal at the same time it is to be able to relive any moment.

Hands clutching the hair, legs intertwined, fingers running along the spine, lips caressing the soft collar bones, the synchronized moving of the chest, the silence in between doing all the taking and the brain preserving all of this as it happens.

For a long time I’ve wondered whether it is possible to completely forget someone. Or if it is easier to push away the thoughts of that person when they haunt you or let them destroy you inch by inch.

I wonder if the traces that they leave on your body or your heart ever leave you, the taste of their lips or the touch of their warm hands on your cheeks or the hands making their way from the neck to the collar bones to where the heart beats.

Memory is a tricky thing when it comes to wanting to forget someone. You could be standing at the kitchen counter at 2 pm and it all comes back rushing to you and there is nothing that you can do to stop it from destroying you. There is nothing one is able to do except for letting it devour you bit by bit. One can stand up against the power of the memories but doesn’t stand a chance to defeat it for it never yields.

Our life if we see is one constant battle of collecting and adjusting memories. One moment you’re living the moment the next you find yourself reminiscing about the moment. Once you’ve entered this trance that the memories put you in, it is nearly impossible to come out of it same as before. Whether it destroys you or it makes you strong enough to fight back. The latter does not happen quite often because of the human tendency of treasuring every bit of life in a box, locking it and then never looking at the box again. The box remains untouched unless triggered and once triggered pours out against every possible levee. These memories make a home inside, working as both poison and an elixir. With one drop it fills you up with euphoria and with another mourning of the moment that has already happened and now exists in this weird world which is beyond reach.

So, we keep these memories close to our heart expecting it to warm the cold and lonely nights, only to leave us cold and deserted.

Thats what a memory does to you. It rips your apart with its bare hands, leaves you on the floor with your insides flooding, breaking and making you. And now without your notice, your life reeks of all those memories.