In a system that was groomed to believe that its worth lie only in its ability to take in data and to output on demand, letting go of the past, releasing that knowledge, that experience, feels like suicide. But holding on to it is killing us as well.

In the end, we repeatedly choose the slow death over the quick, because we have been soaking in that slow, familiar bath of despair for decades. The act of intentionally forgetting feels dangerous, so we condemn ourself to the dysregulation that was forged through abuse, trapped in a prison others built, unable to do the single thing that could ultimately save us.

Because it is said that forgetting history means we are doomed to repeat it. So instead, we stay stuck, doing exactly what we are trying to avoid.