Momento Mori

Everyone forgets. Even the ones who say they won’t. They never remember, because they can’t. The only tree the ax remembers is the one that breaks it.

I wish that I could forget. I wish that I had the same gift as they, the ability to accept and distance themselves, the ability to pretend a scar means I’ve healed.

But I can’t. So they have to remember. They can’t ever forget again. They have to remember every shot, every breath, every tear, every panicked heartbeat.

Because I can’t teach another child how not to die.