Drown

There are those things in your mind that sometimes you would prefer to be a guest, and not a resident. There are some thoughts, some memories that are better seen every once and a while, and then can be shoved out the door. Or maybe they can just be exiled forever to live in some remote corner of the intellectual universe where they don't have to be leeches to my mind. Some things are just not meant to dwell here in my head, because they are too powerful to allow the rest of my brain operate in the way in which it needs to. So this is about those thoughts.
If I don't get rid of them, I'll never write again. I'll never read another story that doesn't trail off into some daydream, I'll never live a day without the fun being interrupted by a random daily event that triggers a flashback. And in the last two weeks, I've learned to stop these flashbacks, let them play and then shake myself out of it before I fall too deep. Before people realize exactly what I'm doing and it's a bad thing. Living off of memories is sick. I don't live off of them either; the plague me. I want to live life where I can fall asleep every night without random disturbances, where Jamba Juice cups, wet gravel, snow and car alarms, are not haunted by the same idea forever. I will drown these memories forever. I will write them down, every detail that my mind can imagine, down to the very temperature, slightest brush of air, every immaculate movement. All the tiny memories that rule my life, will all be written down on papers, until there are no more left. Then I will drown them. Whichever body of water I can, even if it's a street puddle, even if it's the bathroom sink. I will soak these memories into the water and watch the ink and paper crumble, and then I will be free. If they are all said and all gone, then like getting rid of the lip gloss that tasted so good, all evidence of the story will be gone and liberation will have come.