Ribbons of steam are wafting off my cup of coffee, back dropped by the best parts of Oakland. I’m steeping in yet another cup of typical morning ennui, rehashing what little memories I have left from the night before. I have taught myself how to systematically delete all the painful moments, all the awkward comments, all the small hurts of knowing that I don’t get to wake up next to the one that I want today. But that’s okay. I am forgetting these memories just as quickly as I make them, like some sort of willfully, self inflicted, alcohol induced, early onset Alzheimer’s. Maybe that’s a terrible thing to say, because I’m sure that when I’m older I’ll clutch so dearly onto the memories that I am trying to forget today. I just have to make sure that I forget all the right things and that I hold onto the things that feel good so that when I’m crumbling in my death bed the narrative of me over the years will glistening and gold. There is already plenty of pain in the world, and mine just doesn’t seem worth hanging onto for any moment longer than it already exists. So I release my pain and embrace all things pleasure in the name of elevating my human experience.