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December 21, 2013
He lay in bed and wished for the ceiling to fall on him and for everything in the here, now, to just end. For a new day to come in which all the black things are forgotten. He would not remember the black things, of course, and that's what got him to sit up. Because, not remembering the black things means also forgetting about the good things that went on before they became black. This is how memory betrays us. They are good and then they are bad. And there's no one particular memory you are willing to let go.