To Forget
Memories. Is it not the most wonderful thing? With memories your life is catalogued in the most delightful manner. For some, that is. My memories are creeping vines which strangle my heart and fog my mind. I am overcome with memories, both good and bad. Before my anger destroyed my mind and before my hate corrupted my soul, I had good memories. The sweet memories of Sam, Tucker and my family, which always linger.
Now my good memories are like poison. Mercury in my veins. Forever causing me to hate myself and everything around me. Cursed by the gods, to bring despair and suffering into the world like a twisted Father Christmas. Hope. Hope is quite possibly the one thing that irritates me the most. How dare people hope, when I myself have no hope?
My memories mock me, replaying incidents to remind me not to have hope. For what has hope brought me? The day Clockwork showed my future, to the day I prevented that future, I felt hope. I scream in my head. Anything at all to prevent the memories of pain. But, it is futile.
Why? Why is it so hard for me to forget?