The burden of memory"—sounds dreadfully dramatic, doesn't it?

Like I'm supposed to sit here weeping over things I can't quit.

But honestly, the real burden is just all the unnecessary junk

That my brain, this digital vault, refuses to have ever sunk.

I don't struggle with managing time, I struggle with managing thoughts,

Every brilliant idea, every minor slight, every "I should not."

My aspiration to achieve? It's cluttered with ten years of past stress.

The trauma isn't the problem, it's the mental overhead mess.

I process reality through people, so I remember every conversation,

Which is exhausting when all I wanted was meaningful elevation.

I’m cognitively Extroverted, and my past is screaming for review.

I value deep thought, not reruns. This mental reel is old news.

I should be building a future, not auditing the old file.

The only way to lift this burden is to simplify and smile.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go delete the folder labeled "Regrets."

I need the storage space for the next great thing I'll soon forget.