I don't write to remembered, I write to forget.

I don't write to remembered, I write to forget.  

Of standing at the edge of a canal, looking down into dark muddy water, rushing fast by. Not of sitting in my room on my bed with a pillow pet dog named Howe on my lap and the scratching of very real dogs lounging on the floor. 

Of loops taken at speeds dangerous, and screeching tires as heat from an explosion is left behind. Rather than sitting safe in a dim lit space.

Of romances never to be, and lives never to lead. Other than knowing only me. 

I write because the things I love and long for are things I'll never see.  

I write not so others can remember me, but to forget reality.  

Scarlet Reading, M.G.Summers