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I remember.

What good is remembering for? I always remember without knowing what it is for.

Why commemorate--live back, live again--what killed me? When there is neither malice nor resentment anymore; we all learn how to forgive. Is it forgiveness then that we relive?

No. I remember to feel pain again. The body remembers pain best: the mind forgets, gets distracted easily, too quickly. Thoughts heal themselves. All they do is heal themselves--for the mind is judge and jury, victim and murderer. Flesh wounds need time. Time decides, but it never decides what you make of the wounds that shall mark you forever. We all never heal: look at my wrists.


It's never a question about learning something from our mistakes, or learning something about ourselves. That's too easy.

What is remembering for? To be sure, it is never a consolation: as if the present has to be better because it is present. What happened happened not so that what is happening now would happen now. What happened happened because it was necessary in and of itself without a regard for a "future happiness." Nietzsche: amor fati. But also: what poisoned me poisoned me--and I cannot say that I am all the stronger or better for it.

Because I can imagine the then being the now, say, if I simply reverse it. There are no schedules which tell you what comes first and what much later. Should the events be reversed, I'll do the same thing but not learn one more bit about "myself." Or better: to despair now or before or later means that you have always been in despair--always.

But I consign: we do not learn from happiness but only from despair.

My Despair: I remember you, you saved me. You were here all along, you are my sister.



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