I know a bit about how memory works

It’s time to accept the inevitable idea of disappearing completely from your world.

Even the wounds and scars I spent so much time and care trying to heal will eventually vanish.

And as the unspoken weight of time fades, every memory we created will not only be gone,

but lost, like pieces of a puzzle no one’s trying to solve.

Because I know a bit about how memory works.

Some stories will linger only as fleeting flashes of what once was.

I think this is a fate I cannot deny.

I will make inhuman efforts to hold on,

but there are things about my mind I simply cannot control.

I’ll try to remember,

but as we grow older, only echoes of our untold stories will return,

soft and incomplete.

With time, we’ll forget how we once connected,

what brought us together,

and eventually, even our reasons will fade.

Our minds will go blank.

It won’t matter how desperately we try to retrieve the past.

No trace will remain.

Because, like I said, I know a bit about how memory works.

Even if I stand under the city’s rain, feeling something deep and strange,

I won’t remember why it moves me so much.

And maybe, just maybe,

you’ll see a black notebook somewhere,

and your mind will briefly link it to poetry and melancholy.

But you won’t know why.

I will.

Because I know a bit about how memory works.

I used to recognize you in a crowded room, without hesitation.

Now, you blur into the crowd like smoke.

You will forget me, and I will forget you.

It doesn’t mean something went wrong.

One day, we might cross paths again.

Our eyes may meet. Our shoulders might brush.

And in that fleeting second, something might stir,

an echo, a flicker, a feeling with no name.

We won’t stop. We won’t turn.

And still, for just a heartbeat, the universe will pause.

That will be enough.

Because I know a bit about how memory works