Journal, January 31, 2006

My memory is a song I tried to forget.

But the words haunted me, the melody always on my lips.  I tried to learn a new song to block out the old but the noise in my head became cacophonous. Slowly I had to let each false note drop - until all that was left was the same sad song I could not erase.

It was a song I could not sing but needed to whisper instead.  A song that would not let me sleep but invaded my dreams.  A song I could not change but needed to hear in all of its tragic wistfulness.

My memory is a song I wanted to forget.  Except for the part of me that refused to believe in the forced, out of tune harmonies that passed for beauty.  Theirs was a song full of violent ugliness, tears I had promised myself never to shed.

This is my song, and I refuse to forget.