Really, I Just Forget
When I heard your name again—
No, a step back. Every time I hear your name again, even in new contexts, in reference to new people, I have a moment where I don’t react at all. I’m not afraid, I’m not thinking of you, I’m not thinking of anything at all except whoever has introduced themselves. But then, eventually, I do remember, and I wonder if I should have flinched, if I should have doubted my newfound acquaintance as a result of some trauma linked to your name. But I didn’t, and I don’t, and I think I won’t.
It’s not to remove your power, or anything so philosophical. It’s perhaps even more meaningful than that, because really, I just forget.
No, a step back. Every time I hear your name again, even in new contexts, in reference to new people, I have a moment where I don’t react at all. I’m not afraid, I’m not thinking of you, I’m not thinking of anything at all except whoever has introduced themselves. But then, eventually, I do remember, and I wonder if I should have flinched, if I should have doubted my newfound acquaintance as a result of some trauma linked to your name. But I didn’t, and I don’t, and I think I won’t.
It’s not to remove your power, or anything so philosophical. It’s perhaps even more meaningful than that, because really, I just forget.
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