How to Forget

Sometimes I dream about times past, scattered in the wind. The taste of a particularly citrusy apple. The smell of a perfume I had all but forgotten. The feeling of sun on my face,; warm and balanced. These little things that remind me of memories overlooked in my mind, their paths so grown over only my body remembers.  

Almost like déjà vu, where my mind has locked away a piece of me, that I might never know again, but my mind will never forget. That feeling of knowing something so well you can feel it in your bones, but my body has turned into a prison and there is no way out.  

Fleeting, like the edge of a dream that you miss as you wake up until two weeks later it’s right in front of you. The more you reach for it, the more it fades away until you forget about it completely, and only then do you remember. 

I don’t have the full picture of myself, but neither does anyone else. I know myself best but at times I don’t know myself at all. And yet, living in this in between state is where I feel the most at home. Sometimes, you don’t need to know everything.  

I certainly don’t.   

Written by Keely Smith

Header art courtesy of Holly Warburton

Catalyst has been the student publication of RMIT University since 1944. We may be older than your parents but we’re still going strong!

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