a jaded kind of beautiful

i wish they sold special bottles on the farthest grocery aisle, you know, where they store candle holders or cheap as hell vases and tupperwares for storage. i wish that they had bottles that can store memories. time has barely begun ticking down but i keep worrying about the things i’m going to forget sooner or later, about everything that i know would only be barely recalled stories tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. i’m scared, too fucking scared, that if i just keep them all in my mind then maybe they’re going to slip one by one someday and i’ll be left with nothing but the ‘now’ then. and i don’t want that. i’m scared to forget the way it hurt when i got thorns stuck on my feet while we were frolicking around meadows. the scent of my first ever corsage as it wilted on my bedside. tastes of food we experimented with on saturdays we were left with nothing else to do. passages on books i’ve read that depicted life in the moment. the way it felt when he chose to leave and she didn’t remember and all those whirlwind flutterings. i’m scared. too fucking scared.

if something existed that could hold thoughts and memories for a very long time or til i choose to forget, i wouldn’t really care if it came in bottles or bags or syringes or anything else. i’d still want it with every ounce of yearning i have in my body.