Recall

We paint brushstrokes on the past with the ease of crayons, blurring the lines of truth with wishful thinking. We pinpoint the extremities of our lives if only to prove that we are not drudging the years away in somber lack. Our memories disintegrate with each memorial we celebrate. Our mourning overtake facts, and I too often have called upon lies as evidence. People’s betrayals only ever come as a surprise because we have tricked ourselves, blacking out the red flags they staked, murmuring halos and pedestals that they never asked for. I have come up with a saying to combat the mind’s rustic nostalgia: know everyone, befriend some, love few, trust no one.