ne·glect
..and my inability to remember.
I’m really good at forgetting things, it’s like second nature next to my humanly instincts. If it’s not visible or within my presence, then it’s basically nonexistent to my fickle mind. Now, I just rely on triggers — whether it’s a scent, a sad song, a piece of imperfect graffiti on the wall, a photo from the early 2000s that now seems retro, or experiences that feel like déjà vu — just to remember and pull them from inside my head.
And admittedly, I use neglect as an excuse for this. It’s as if my subconscious quietly tucks these memories into hidden boxes in my mind and treats them as forgotten experiences, never to be opened again. It makes me wonder — why? Is it some kind of trauma response? But then, why does it take the happy ones with it too?
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting tired of being told that I’ve asked the same question again and again, months apart. A colleague even mentioned that I’ve asked her what her birthday is every year, and somehow it just never sticks. Maybe it’s because, deep down, I don’t really care? I want to believe that I do care because it feels like the right thing, but do I really have to care in order to remember these things? Am I becoming too indifferent to others lately? I’ve always liked connecting with people, yet now it brings up a lot of questions in my mind.
But even after all this, I still can’t say with confidence that I move on quickly. Deep inside me, the pieces people left behind are still there — waiting to resurface in moments of weakness or when something triggers them. And I don’t want to blame my resentment toward the world for that, because I want to love every part of myself enough to remember it.
Hahagkan ko ang mga labi ng pag-alala upang muli kitang makita.