I've always wondered how to erase a memory. Whether it's good or bad, a memory rides around on the delicate, pink tracks of your brain, occasionally blowing it's whistle to remind you it's there. Tears start to spill over the brim of your eye buckets or laughter billows up from the deepest part of your gut, as you stop and hop on one of the train cars. You wonder where the memory locomotive is going to take you, and soon it becomes too much, too fast.
Your stomach starts to rumble, vibrating the inner chambers of your heart. You wonder why a magical memory can be so painful, so you pull the emergency brake before it takes you too far. Grabbing your bags and an extra cookie from the car, you bolt. "But, why?" you ask yourself. "That was supposed to be a fun ride, right?" Maybe you believed you didn't deserve to feel happy. Whatever the reason, you jump and you run. You run fast.
Once you think you've sprinted far enough, you find the closest bench to sit and catch your shallow breath. You dig into your heavy bags only to realize that memory followed you. It infiltrated your luggage. You thought you outsmarted the bastard. But, there it is. So, you start to pull all the memory that tucked itself neatly in your over-stuffed canvas totes, and you throw it as far as you can or shove it into the nearest trash can. It's too much. It's a hinderance.
As you continue to run, you slowly begin to realize that you can't erase memory even if you made certain it was buried deep under discarded chili fries and orange peels. It's there. It's yours. No matter how many pictures you burn, memory remains. And contrary to what you believe, your memory isn't all that bad.