Updated: Aug 13, 2021
It's fascinating how people turn into memories and then into nothing. What do you call it? The death of a lover? For days and months and seasons, they are always there in your head, the ghosts of your lovers. Plaguing your mind. Invading your thoughts. Interrupting your moments. Impertinently intruding into your time. And then, one day, you can't figure out when, they had disappeared. You look for if they had left behind any trail for you to follow. You try to think when was the last time they were there. You try to think really hard, eyes closed, frowning and engaging every cell of your brain in that act but you give up. So what do you call it? The death of a lover? The gift of forgetting is called a bliss. I can't talk about it because I never had it. But forgetting sure is freedom. And what ever was, better than freedom?