Trenches And Tales.

She told him "Sometimes, I wish I didn't have the decent memory I think I have. I mean, sometimes, I wish I didn't remember all the little details that I do remember. I wish I could remember only those parts that make me believe in the goodness of the world, but no, it has to be everything, I guess. It has to be every little detail about every single event that has happened in the course of my life."

She went on "And it's not that I want to remember them, its just that I can't help remembering them. And just because I do remember them, it doesn't mean I have hatred etched in my heart for all of those who gave me pain. I've forgiven them all, long ago. No bitterness, no sourness and absolutely no hatred. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't forget them. And I'm afraid, maybe, deep within the trenches of my heart, I don't want to. I'm afraid I have it written in my heart that its one thing to get hurt by someone but it's a completely different thing to get hurt by the same people over and over again. And no, I'm not suggesting people don't change. Maybe they do. Surely they do. After-all, we all are just consequences of how time treats us. But this still isn't a good enough reason for me to look past my own past and start afresh. And all that's left now in me is me wishing everyone the very best in every single endeavour they encounter. I wish them all well, but I can't be a part of them. The best that I can be is a quiet passer-by in their lives."

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't argue anymore. Neither did he feel like he should. He understood where she came from. He took off, with a gloomy smile and a surprisingly satiated heart.