Disintegration. Thank goodness. Life is hard, but at least it gives us one act of mercy. Our minds are like electromagnetic tape, spinning furiously while the oxide used to record our memories and thoughts, flake off into the universe. Whole pieces gone, partials lingering. Leaving us to fill in the blanks with our subconscious' desires and needs. We gladly do this.

Our cognitive past is not a true representation of the factual past. Yet, this cognitive past influences us greatly. Our inner unconscious selves is always planning their escape, paying off the memory guards, picking away at the events-of-our-lives walls, making them little by little dissolve into a new form, one we can get out of and be free.

This happens so slow, we never see it happening until...Voila! So slow, we can't even feel the slightest guilty for our disintegration. There are many events of my life I wouldn't mind having sped up in its transmutation, but I embrace it all. Every last shitty thing I can remember. Time is my rust, my Abner Snopes, my earthworm breaking down my mental soil leaving fertile castings (poop) for something else to grow. Something beautiful.