Body memory

When we remember things, it is not only imprinted in our brain.

Our body, you see, can also remember things just as good as our brain, 

and sometimes, our brain is more terrible at it than our body is.

I started play rubix when I was in high school. My classmate taught me how to solve it. Right-up-right prime-up-right-up-up-right prime. At this point, I knew how to solve it up to the top layer. "It wasn't that hard," I said. She smiled and said, "Now, only the last two steps left." Right prime-front-right prime-back-back-right-front prime-right prime-back-back-right-right. And I was lost, so she told me to mirror her movement. But the bell rang and I didn't finish learning it. That week, I had to move out from the school and the city before I could memorize how to solve it. 

Seven years later, I got a job that required me to move back to the city. The city that I had always missed and dreamed to live in again. But even until now, my brain still confuses itself that when I wake up and I look at my the ceiling, I find myself gasping, wondering just where the hell I am.

One day, I see a rubix on a bookshelf in my office. And to be completely honest, I forgot how to solve it. However, once I get my hands on it, my fingers, they just recognize which part should I start with and which way to turn. Right-up-right prime-up-right-up-up-right prime. Only the last two steps left. But I don't know how to solve it because I didn't finish learning it.

When we remember things, it is not only imprinted in our brain.

Our body, you see, can also remember things just as good as our brain, 

even the things we may not want our brain to remember,

our body may remember it, better than our brain does.

Just like how when I slept and had no blanket around, I would curl up my body, protect myself from the cold. My mother said, I used to sleep like that when I was baby.

Or just like how I woke up and looked at the ceiling, and found myself gasping, covering my head up, crying, from the dream of my burning house. I was trying to escape an accident I wished I could forget.

When we remember things, it is not only imprinted in our brain.

Our body, you see, can also remember things just as good as our brain, 

and even sometimes, we unconsciously pick up things from ones we once loved

and imprint it in the memory of our body.

Just like how I forgot the day I first mimicked the way my ex walked but even today I am still able to walk like the way he does, especially when I realized that there is a man walking behind me.

Or just like when you filled your glass and got drunk, not only by the alcohol but also the fog of rage. And when you are mad, fire burns in your tired eyes, your jaw clenches, just like the way she does.

Or just like how the way you put things into words, and the next day, she says the same things, exactly, just like the way you do.

Or just how you protect yourself from the hurt: you curl up your beautiful lips and curl down those tired eyes when you smile, just like the way she does.

I once asked you:

Did it hurt because you remembered,

...or did it hurt because you did not want to forget?

My brain may not understand the implicitness of explicit expressions, but there are things that I will remember of you solely, and there are things of you and the other things too that make me recall how I am gasping, trying to escape the sting that throbs through my chest, the hurt I wish I could forget.