I would fucking erase you.
I would. I know I said I wouldn’t but I would. I would erase every single solitary second with you if it meant I didn’t have to turn into this after you left me.
I would erase the gigs. All of them. Including the Warehouse. The one that meant so much to you? I would erase it. I’d have no memory of it whatsoever and if you ever mentioned it — which you wouldn’t — I would shrug you off and walk away.
I’d erase your room. I’d forget laying on your bed, staring up at your foam fingers and your Red Hot Chili Peppers poster. I’d forget the time I leaned back in the Chair of Death and didn’t freak out, and you said I was the only person who’d ever leaned back in that chair and didn’t freak out. I’d erase the KRK speakers I bought you for your birthday. And the Foo Fighters sticker. And the Inception poster. Your walls would look stupid with that Kurt Cobain and Metallica poster instead.
I’d erase the weddings. All of them. Including my favorite one, when I came out into the hallway to make sure I was doing it right and you looked at the photos and said, “I wish I could kiss you right now. These look amazing.” And with that, I’d erase all those times you yelled at me or snapped at me for doing something wrong. And then I’d just end up crying in the bathroom for 30 minutes because you made me sad and I just wanted to go home but couldn’t because you drove. I’d erase that and I wouldn’t miss it.
…I would erase New York. Depsite dreaming of it since I was 6 years old and always wanting to be there, depsite it meaning so much to me, despite it being considering my home at heart, I would erase it because I went there with you. Times Square, Jimmy Fallon, Wicked… I would throw it all away. And for a moment, I’d be sad about erasing it because New York was the last time I was truly happy with you. But once it would be removed from my mind, I wouldn’t give it a 2nd thought. And the next time I go to New York, it will be without you and I’ll think I’m going for the first time. And it’ll be okay that some things seem familiar because it’ll be exactly as I dreamed it would be.
I’d erase telling you I loved you. Because you never said it back. And waiting for you to say it to me made it hurt even worse. You were never going to love me. And I think I always knew that. But I’d hoped anyway. Fucking pointless.
And all those moments where you held me as I cried… And that time I took you into my arms as you cried. All those moments where I felt broken, like my skin was the only thing keeping me from going everywhere at once, when you said things to me that meant the world, at the time at least. Like when that woman was really mean to me and made me feel horrible about my photography. And you whispered, “Don’t cry, sweetie. She’s gone now. What she said means nothing here.” And how I knew at that time, in that moment, in that room, on that bed, in your arms, you were right. …I’d erase that.
I’d erase that time you went to Austin for a weekend and came home with a Don Henley record for me. And when I got to your house, you made me walk into your room backwards so I couldn’t see what you had. But I tried to look in the reflection of the poster and you caught me. And you made me look down because you wanted me to be surprised. And then I heard the faint cymbals and guitar. And you played “Boys of Summer” for me because you knew I loved that song and you knew what it meant to me — what it had begun to mean to me, a year prior. And then we laid in your bed, listening to Foo Fighters greatest hits on vinyl. And we loved it.
Sometimes, I want to cry about you. Over you. But I can’t… It would only be a step back in this progress I’ve made. Or maybe it’s because you don’t make me sad anymore. I think I’ve taken that right away from you.
…If I could erase you, I think I would. I’m not sure.
How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted and each wish resign’d.