Successful Amnesia

There's this thing inside of me, I have never been able to see. I was so successful in forgetting it that I even forgot it existed. It was how it was supposed to be I said, "It would be as if it never existed." I never thought of the consequences, because I never thought it actually existed, after I've forgotten, hence the retrospect.

I can't match, trace, wander how it went. It was so buried that everything seems fictional now. I won't know the difference of what really happened and what happened inside my head. Everything acts like clams. As soon as I start swimming through the deep, they all shut. It's as if I wanted to, but I can't help it. I can no longer see inside. It's as if I've been evicted of my own house of memories. The only thing I know, that of which remains, is that you exist. And somehow, you and I shared something sometime, too long ago.

It's a weird feeling actually. It makes you doubt. It makes you want to rethink everything. It's the reset button that you'd always push whenever you like, but it's hard going back to the start. I like what I have. I like what I do. I like everything else that came and everything that will come. But what do I do with you? You are the feeling that sets everything off. Oblivious as you are, you bring Hades upon sleep making dreaming painful, making living in the present doubtful and yet I know nothing about you. And care even less. Most of the time.

I can't help it. It always happens yesterday.