The Curse

The idea of the curse inhabited my mind since it brought unnecessary complication to my life - forcing me to keep in hand the no-thank-you-let's-just-be-friends card.

Anyways, back tot he initial topic - the curse. The curse that has been intertwined in the fibers of my being is my memory. I remember.

You might think, that is nothing unusual. I remember more than what average people care to. I can't just choose not to remember. I have no choice. I remember everything.

I remember when I was little, I disobeyed my mom and went swimming alone. It was very silent. I felt very lonely. My mom knew I was missing and found me there. She blew up (to say the least). I remember that "incident" to this day. I remember what I was wearing; I remember what the pool looked like. I also remember what shade of lipstick my mom was wearing.

Some people would probably comment: so what, remembering is a good thing. Well... not really. Yes. To a certain extent, remembering things is a good thing. I remember birthdays, and anniversaries, and funny incidents, and many other things. But there are things - places, people, images, and events - that I would gladly give up. There are things one would like to bury so deep inside that one's mind can never recall ever again. But I can't forget those, no matter how hard I try.

So I think of this as a curse because my memory was misunderstood as a sign of affection by a person. I am so sorry, but I don't mean to mislead you. I am not interested in being anything but friends.

Just like a coin, there are two opposite sides of my memory. It is a good thing and a bad thing, a gift and a trick, a blessing...

and a curse.