How can you regret something that made sense? How can you regret something that’s keeping you sane, even if you feel otherwise? How can your salvation lie in both the safe and the self-destructive?
Maybe that shouldn’t be the question. Maybe it oughta be, if either way your salvation can only end as a mistake, which mistake can you not live with?
Oops, I forgot. That can’t be it. Not anymore, anyway. The fcuk with questions on salvation. The 50 Million-Dollar Question should now be: When are you gonna stop?
***
Thing is, maybe I don’t want to. It’s crazy, but I’m scared that someday I’ll forget. I’ll forget how I used to feel about things. I’m afraid of the day when my memories of all things "malabo" will lose all depth and color. It’s scary that such memories can recede into nothingness. And all I’ll have are nebulous scribblings to serve as a reminder of the times.. and then, nada.
Guess I should be happy at the prospect of impermanence; it's the only thing one can ever count on. But.. I dunno. I just don’t wanna ever forget.
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