Sometimes I forget things- I'm particularly horrible at names. I remember faces very well though. I remember the faces of those I have wronged and those that I loved for longer than most seemingly. I can't remember someone. her face nor her name have vanished. I can't remember if her hair was red like someone I knew or she had painted her horns in red patterns. I remember her warmth in contrast of how cold she was. She left often and long. I can't recall if why she loved yellow. I remember her disgust at me. She hadn't been the first to be disgusted. It hurt less than when she told loud words with no respite on my end. I don't remember why she told me about an lusus that I grew obsessive over. Pessimistic was the word for her. Death was ingrained into every fiber of my beinf from her. Death loomed and she would be dead by the time that my untimely death would happen. I remember pairs of horns. I remember her voice being deep. I remember all of that, but I can't remember her face. I can't remember what she liked to wear. I can't remember what she liked to eat. I can't remember her sign. I can't remember more than anything that she existed. It feels like a blotch in my memory. She lived. She existed- She was around. Was she actually an woman? Or am I filling in blanks from the assumption that everyone I was close to at the time was a woman, so she had to be one too? Was that even true? I am not sure. I am selfish in that way. I want to know everything. I want to understand. I want to devour the world and all that it contains #writing
