I swallow a big pill of amnesia. To erase away my mistakes. I hear Jesus calling my name but downhill goes my life. Downhill goes my memory...downhill goes me. I am, he says. You aren’t, I reply. Jesus promises to erase my sin, but if I can hold onto the temporary forgetfulness with the glee that forms in my heart afterwards, then I will. Because you see the temporary looks better than the permanent because you don’t have to go through trial and error until your next fix. I know it may look like I’m taking pills but I’m not...the pills represent who I am. And who I am is lost. So I down another pill. I forget who I am. Then the amnesia vanished and I’m left with an enormous amount of sorrow and shame. I AM, He says, once again. I bow my head, kneel and whisper...You are.