Every day I forget a little more about her.
It appears it is that easy, yes, to let go a life that had once been so intense, so essential.
Equally frightening is the vacuum here I’ve discovered beneath all relations. Of course their significance was always limited to the requirement of context. The context of the human condition, of evolutionary conditioning, and the resulting structure of family and society. But this bare, matter-of-fact truth that no interaction is deep or profound enough, is too rough and abrupt to take in at one go.
I absorb it slowly, like a bitter tonic that’s good for my health, every day that I forget her a little more.
Now it suddenly seems laughable, all this. This being on the surface of a spinning blue ball that evolved with accidental physical conditions to support complex self-replicating structures, and worrying about the profundity of love and relationships. It has no meaning, no meaning outside its own narrow human context. It’s a conditional truth, if it at all is a truth even in the human context. I don’t think it’s even that.
Goddammit, I’ve actually stopped believing in love.