Last year on this date I wrote a pretty lengthy entry.

I even posted it for a few minutes, then I deleted it.

This morning I did the same thing.

I haven't forgotten what today is, just like I haven't forgotten that date in May. Or the one in March, or even the one in January.

I do remember these things. It would be easier if I could forget them, but I how could I forget? They're burned into me. Some of them for over two decades now. This one for sixteen years.

I haven't forgotten, but neither do I celebrate them.

Instead I write about them and then keep those writings private.

Do not respond to this. I will never be ready to reopen those wounds.