Or has it only been buried so deep in the folds of my subconscious, that no amount of poking and prodding and excavating could get down to it? And how did it sink all the way down to the bottom like that, if it wasn’t for my shoving it there in the first place? Forcibly, ruthlessly, unceremoniously.
I forgot his birthday.
But it wasn’t the usual case of absent-mindedness, where you smack yourself in the forehead going, “Damn, it was his birthday 2 days ago and I completely forgot!” This was completely different. I had to deliberately ransack my brain for the date. Had to use other related memories to bring up the digits. Had to go through a mental elimination process before finally managing to come up with the most likely result. And yet I still wasn’t sure.
I stopped short at digging out old diaries though. It was already more than enough, this emotionally tumultuous trip down memory lane.
Motivated forgetting? So be it.
Let my mind be the powerful entity it’s supposed to be.