The Art of Forgetting
How Letting Go Creates Joy, Strength, and Self-Trust
Some things are meant to be remembered forever. Others are meant to be unlearned, deleted, and buried beneath the beauty of who we’ve become. The art of forgetting is not denial. It’s a deliberate act of healing. An unapologetic return to the present, where joy lives.
She Wasn’t Even There
She wasn’t there when it happened, yet she acted like she had seen everything. A friend I trusted—no, a person I thought was a friend—judged me without asking a single question. Her words echoed louder than the truth. They were harsh, cold, and completely detached from reality.
That day, I stopped believing in people for a while. I questioned the value of vulnerability, of letting someone in. I kept replaying the conversation, wondering how something so small could make me feel so unseen.
I remembered everything.
And that was the problem.
We Praise Memory and Forget the Damage
We live in a world that feeds on facts, knowledge, and receipts. Whoever remembers more—wins. My memory is razor-sharp. I can recall exact conversations, smells, glances, and even the day I was born. It serves me well in architecture, writing, leadership, and strategy.
But when it comes to pain?
Memory is weight.
Memory keeps us locked in stories that should have ended chapters ago.
There’s no trophy for remembering who abandoned us. No prize for replaying our mistakes or memorizing the look on someone’s face when they hurt us.
Some memories are prisons. And the only way out is to forget on purpose.
Self-Forgiveness Starts with Selective Amnesia
When I locked myself out of my place, I blamed myself for hours. I berated myself for being careless. I used to do that often—memorize my mistakes, rehearse them in my head, and convince myself they defined me.
The same way I held onto childhood rage. My mother couldn’t be the mom I needed. She couldn’t understand my pain, and for years, I made that a central part of my identity. Until one day, I stopped needing her to. I learned to listen to myself instead.
Forgetting isn’t erasure. It’s release.
It’s choosing silence over resentment.
Peace over revenge.
I don’t need an apology from that friend anymore. I’ve chosen to forget not just the moment, but also the place she had in my life. Not because it didn’t happen, but because it no longer matters.
Sainya to the Future
We don’t have to carry yesterday with us. Each new day is a clean slate — not a continuation of old stories, but a chance to write new ones. Forgetting becomes a quiet rebellion, a way of choosing hope even when the past tries to interrupt.
We don’t owe anyone an apology for how long it took to heal. We don’t need to replay the wounds to prove we survived them. We can celebrate what’s working, what’s growing, what’s finally feeling good. Like the milestones that seem small to others but mean everything to us — starting over in a new city, rebuilding trust, finding joy again.
Sainya is the power to move forward with grace.
Sainya to the ones we’re becoming.
Sainya to the futures we’re creating.
Sainya to forgetting everything that tried to hold us back.
A Final Word
There’s no glory in remembering our mistakes. Only power in choosing not to relive them. We owe ourselves more joy than pain, more forward motion than flashbacks.
Forget the ones who let us down. Forget the things that made us doubt our worth.
We’re here now.
That’s enough.
“Some things are better forgotten—not because they didn’t matter, but because you matter more.”
—Vanessa Liu