What hurt has been done to you, sweet girl? We shall erase it – it shall be but a memory forgotten," she promised. This, she knew how to do.

I think people write to remember:
(Whether) to bring back a mem'ry to life,
(Or for their future selves a reminder,
Once God begins to dim their lights).

But I learnt that I write not just to recall,
Because, damn, I cite well if I let,
Profusely[-]vividly remembering all –
I think I write in hopes to forget.

Listen, baby, people do funny things. Specially us. The cards are stacked against us and just trying to stay in the game, stay alive and in the game, makes us do funny things. Things we can't help. Things that make us hurt one another. We don't even know why. But look here, don't carry it inside and don't give it to nobody else. Try to understand it, but if you can't, just forget it and keep yourself strong, man.

My name will be Edith Proir," she says. "And there is much I am happy to forget.

Let's not let this be your life tonight," he says. "Let's get back in the car and pretend we're driving away because we want to... not because we need to. We can pretend I'm taking you somewhere amazing... somewhere you've always wanted to go. You can snuggle up to me and we can talk about how excited we are and we'll talk about everything we'll do when we get there. We can talk about the important stuff later. But tonight... let's not let this be your life.

The more she tried to forget, the more she remembered.