losing in A transparent lockbox

I’m in an interesting place right now, perhaps an unstable one. More and more, I’m able to see the roots of my problems and faults. There are these familiar ties of overindulgence, pride, and misplacing my vulnerability. When I think back to my happiest times, they were the ones where validation, vices, and outside influence were practically obsolete. The days where I wasn’t sober, but wasn’t drinking, because I didn’t have the desire to, or when I didn’t try to think of who I am through someone else’s lens. Lately I’ve been believing some things are meant to be lost, as much as others are meant to last a long time. I forget people, conversations, and forfeit opportunities, and can’t help but feel peace; thinking about all that has slipped away or left without a fight. There is so much beauty in forgetting and losing, usually the entire concept is doused in negative connotations, but god, I love that I won’t always be remembered, nor will anything else.