A Lot More From _I FORGOT_

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I forgot to return the library book.

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I forgot to add baking soda when making chocolate chip cookies.

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I “forgot” to do my homework.

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I forgot you’re dead.

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I sometimes forget what it’s like to feel loved.

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I forgot the year of your birth.

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I forgot where to put the comma.

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I forgot to thank you.

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I forgot to apologize.

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I forgot to explain myself to you.

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I forgot that you and I have different ways of perceiving, embracing, and withdrawing from the world.

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I forgot that there’s little which is obvious.

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I forgot to not assume too much.

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I forgot to preheat the oven.

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I forgot to thump (or not to thump) my chest.

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I forgot to be present.

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I forgot to praise someone.

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I forgot to “get over myself.”

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I forgot to watch where I was walking.

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I forgot to include you in what I was doing.

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I forgot how loud I might be singing with the earphones on.

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I forgot that I’m a failure, but I was reminded.

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After a big buildup, I forgot the punch line again.

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I forgot to get off on the right exit.

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I forgot to get you off.

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I forgot to tell him off.

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I forgot to introduce you.

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I forgot what it’s like to be young.

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I forgot to pretend.

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I forgot to swallow my pride.

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I forgot to not have another drink.

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I forgot to reveal that while I may well be a great listener, there are things I want to say and have heard too.

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I forgot to assert my presence.

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I forgot where I was.

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I forgot to save money.

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I forgot who I wanted to be.

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I forgot to remind you to do whatever it was you wanted me to remind you to do.

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I forgot that I can’t sing and sang anyway.

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I forgot the rules of the game.

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I forgot to be compliant.

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I forgot that I wrote that poem.

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I forgot that I’m not as transparent as I feel.

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I forgot to return your call.

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I forgot to watch where I was going.

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I forgot to “be in the moment.”

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I forgot to take the picture.

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I forgot to write the poem down.

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I forgot to find the courage to ask you out.

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I forgot to look in the mirror.

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I forgot that when I look at you that you look back at me.

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I have the nagging suspicion that I’ve forgotten something again.

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Forgetting is a kind of continuum. It ranges from protective to destructive behavior with all kinds of stops in-between.

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Forgetting can be thought of as almost a kind of music or painting – oscillating intervals and/or blanks, don’t you know.

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Forgetting can be a gift and it can be several kinds of hell.

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I forgot to salt it.

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I forgot to tell you that your friend called.

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I forgot to tell you what your friend called you.

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I forgot to be obsequious.

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I forgot to make contingency plans.

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I forgot to look before crossing the street.

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I forgot to read the Owner’s Manual.

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I forgot to take the medicine.

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I forgot to pay attention.

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I forgot to declare my intentions.

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I forgot, upon waking, to write a seemingly important recognition down.

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For the most part, I forget my dreams.

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