I think losing your memory would be a beautiful thing. It’s gaining closure…of your entire life. It all happened and now, like fragments of stars, they fade into the distance. All the good things, and all of the bad things, now erased from you. They’ll always be a part of you. This thing called life. You’ll look into your lover’s eyes, never remember how you first met or why her eyes eclipsed galaxies while yours desperately tried to fathom just how beautiful she carried herself. You’ll look in the mirror. A hollowed self…but when the wind blows, you’ll hear music. One that brings you back so close to who you used to be. You just won’t remember it. When it does happen, when your brain refuses to hold on yet clings to the past, the present and the future, you’ll meet yourself once more. You’ll close your eyes. You’ll stay this way. Why? Because you won’t remember to care to worry about the world. Because the world will always be a host of a collection of memories. You’ll read this when you’re older. The best part? Every single day, it’ll mean something new. You just won’t remember it.