I write to forget all those memories from yesterday that tie me down today.
Like the time I fell from my bicycle, foolishly believing that the ground will rise to catch me.
Like the time I danced in the rain, with my arms open wide and my tongue catching the tears of God.
Like the time I burned my finger while trying to save my book full of pictures that made me smile.
Like the time I fell asleep in the meadow, fantasizing that all this time I had been in a rabbit hole.
Like the time I held my breath under the ocean, waiting for my Triton to come and save me.
All those times, not one of them true, yet I remember them as if they were.
So I write, and write to forget my made up yesterday.