How Could I Ever Forget?
Sometimes I wonder how much crazy I channel. I've been on insane listening highs with this musical Next to Normal. I'm making plans to use my tax return to go to NY to see this show on Broadway. Like, I'm crazy, right?
The mother, she's bipolar depressive and suffers from delusions. She sees things. She gets shock treatment and forgets everything. But of course, what has haunted her for 16 years comes crawling back.
A couple days ago, I had a really scary lapse.
I was reading and there was some rape scene involved. Rape scenes in all kinds of genres generally piss me off because they're so tacked on and used as a shallow ploy to elicit emotion or "meaning" to a piece when usually they add nothing because no thought actually went into adding it in the first place.
But you know, anything involving unwanted sexual attention gives me flashbacks. And it got me thinking.
I wonder what he's doing right now. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if he ever thinks about it. I wonder if he's sorry.
And then it just hit me.
He's dead. He's not thinking anything right now.
How the fuck could I ever forget?
I stood at his fucking grave and stared at the flowers his family left him and spoke to him for the last time.
It seems the height of absurdity that I'd just forget something like that.
The mother, she's bipolar depressive and suffers from delusions. She sees things. She gets shock treatment and forgets everything. But of course, what has haunted her for 16 years comes crawling back.
A couple days ago, I had a really scary lapse.
I was reading and there was some rape scene involved. Rape scenes in all kinds of genres generally piss me off because they're so tacked on and used as a shallow ploy to elicit emotion or "meaning" to a piece when usually they add nothing because no thought actually went into adding it in the first place.
But you know, anything involving unwanted sexual attention gives me flashbacks. And it got me thinking.
I wonder what he's doing right now. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if he ever thinks about it. I wonder if he's sorry.
And then it just hit me.
He's dead. He's not thinking anything right now.
How the fuck could I ever forget?
I stood at his fucking grave and stared at the flowers his family left him and spoke to him for the last time.
It seems the height of absurdity that I'd just forget something like that.