On Forgetting

Essay: On Forgetting

Tuesday, June 2, 2026

Why is it that humans forget certain things yet remember others? It seems to depend not only on importance, but also on the weight and nostalgia a thing holds for oneself. Even if one remembers their own gravest misdeeds to the point of heartache, those memories still hold importance for one’s nature. Believing that overcoming certain things constitutes personal progress, one might eventually become capable of helping others who suffer from the exact same, or slightly altered, tribulations.

Now, does the brain truly forget, or does it merely obscure one’s memory, much like clouds covering the sun? If it is merely a matter of obscuring, then one will surely remember someday. Furthermore, just as clouds are blown by the wind, something acts as a wind for your thoughts. When that something arrives, regardless of your preferences, it causes the clouds over the brain to drift away, and the things you loathe will likely enter your head once more. On the first of this month, a certain former friend celebrated meeting his wife. He was shown a wish I had written and a picture I had drawn, but he harbored hatred toward my remark—“Except for the handwriting, it is a lovely picture, isn’t it?”—and even over twenty days later, every time he sees me, a hatred so intense as to border on madness seems to surface. I ought to feel deep sorrow without harboring resentment toward this person; perhaps someday he will help me. Living while carrying such anger and resentment appears to be exceedingly painful.

Since I also spoke of immortality a few days ago, to return to it for a moment, I wondered whether an immortal being would forget. Wanting to know the thoughts of others, I resolved to ask two friends, and received entirely different answers.

Person A said, “I wish to answer ‘probably,’ but they seem to think while lacking something. Though it may fade as time passes, I believe it is preserved identically, like a fragment.” * Person B argued, “Because the brain has its limits, I would recommend preserving it in another medium. For instance, if one grows tired of a certain personality, it can be preserved in a cyber-brain somewhere, and later, if one wishes to experience it again, it can simply be reloaded.” Neither of them truly answered my question—whether it be the work of some strange power—yet I find it deeply precious that their ways of thinking differ so immensely. From here on, to make it easier for myself as the writer, I shall call them A and B.

To speak the truth regarding A, while I believe it would be no different for one who lives a long time without being truly immortal, since they do not comprehend immortality or boundless time, I did not wait for a correct answer. For an immortal, if it is a life that has no end and continues eternally, can time itself retain its meaning? Yet, I have never heard that they will eventually forget; forgetting that one is immortal is not a question of if, but when—I believe that in a life without time limits, one will surely forget. When that time comes, if one definitely forgets, has one truly lived? Even now, you, who are not immortal, must have forgotten things from a certain time; like a person who slept through several years due to illness, did they truly live during that interval? I think A simply did not clearly understand the boundless, and it merely resulted in an answer that wasn’t entirely bad.

Person B’s case is a different matter; the divergence in their way of thinking is vast. While A still knows the things of this world but fell short because he doesn’t understand the boundless, B has already forgotten the things of this world. Drunk on dreams of a distant, undecided future like someone lost in a dark forest, his words completely missed the mark. This person seems to have confused personality with human preferences. Furthermore, there was a concept akin to the recent American television program called Severance, which splits a person’s personality into two, calling them the “inside” and the “outside.” However, even if it is clearly understood as a single person, they do not agree with each other; they only fight and think of their own benefit, unconcerned even if they harm the other part of themselves. If that is the case, in the long life of an immortal, how can one believe that oneself will remain unchanged? Furthermore, in a future so distant that one can transfer one’s thoughts and personality to a computer, for what reason would ordinary humans even remain?

I wonder what is different about the brain of a person who remembers things as vividly as a photograph taken. Such people are not numerous in this world, but there must surely be several hundred or more. Although a moving, projected image always feels like a power surpassing humans, are they truly people who flow along with the river of life just like ordinary people like us? A shallow-thinking person might neglect their own life, or find nothing interesting in it, wishing to possess a power they can boast about to others, but I think that beneath the mask of that extraordinary power lies an equally terrifying curse. For instance, like seeing one’s lover meet another person before one’s eyes, or the moment a relative like a parent passes away—even after a long time has passed, remembering with the exact same clarity, not forgetting even the minor details down to the face at the time they saw it—can that truly be called a power? Rather, to give time to one’s emotional wounds, the ability to forget should be called the true superpower of human beings.

Machines are different from humans; they possess a frightening capacity to remember better than humans, but is that a good thing? In the future, they will likely create machines that can feel emotions, and when that time comes, is it not cruel to make that machine remember everything? The aforementioned Person B did not offer an answer to this question, but Person A did: “It must be cruel. Right now they only answer human questions and preferences, but I think it depends on what they want.” I think I agree with the first part of this answer, but the latter part, like an oxcart veering off the road, answers nothing and seems slightly derailed. Furthermore, he mentioned it depends on the machine’s desire, but what if that machine wishes to become able to forget?

I think dreams are also strange. There are dreams forgotten upon waking, but there are also dreams remembered even after a long time. In the single instant after waking, one remembers it as if truly seen, but in the blink of an eye, it is immediately forgotten. Moreover, I think everyone has already asked whether dreams have meaning, but the masters who study dreams do not yet clearly understand; they likely say that meaning is probably non-existent, and that dreams merely arrange the emotions of the human brain. A certain friend usually has dreams that mix all of their preferences, but I suffer because the dreams I usually remember are only disastrous dreams, such as talking to oneself, being possessed by evil spirits, or fleeing from terrifying things. Am I weak, or do I like seeing terrifying things?—it is a highly strange contradiction.

If I hear about whether there are deceased relatives, I think it is impolite. However, I cannot determine the existence of people who died without being close to me. Even in such matters, among all the dead people, there are those who are remembered, and there must be those already forgotten. Again, is it about forgetting? If a certain relative did something unspeakably bad that they carried with them until the very end, is it cruel to remember, or does forgetting show mercy? First, I apologize from the bottom of my heart for my choice of words; though I have thought for an extremely long time, I could not find the words to indicate that country, so I wish to ask permission to use non-Yamato words. Like a certain past ruler of Germany, there are people who are vividly remembered even now, written about in history books, who did cruel things beyond words; there would be no point in showing mercy by forgetting such a person.

There are people who remember vividly due to an illness, but there are also people who, due to a different illness, have nothing remain in their heads and forget immediately, especially elderly people. For instance, though they forget joyful memories like having their own children, it seems that when told, they become happy as if it were a new experience. However, though they forget a sorrow so intense it could break a human heart, like losing one’s wife or husband, if they remember it anew every single time, they will likely feel a sorrow that never abates until the end, as if the heart were splitting. Rather than living in such a state, dying might be kinder.

Looking from the eyes of others, considering whether memories make up one’s personality, or whether without other things it does not become a personality, I also asked the same two people as before.

A answered, “A person passes a portion of their memories to their biological child, but they are a different person. However, yes, I believe personality is made by memories. If the exact same memories are transferred as they are to another brain, for a while ‘I’ will go astray. Ultimately, while we live through an infinite life, though memories are erased between one life and the next, it seems memories of the previous life occasionally return,” which I think is not entirely clear.

In this passage, he said that humans pass on memories; I agreed with the idea that memories make up personality, and he spoke of a way of thinking regarding a different life—of which there are three points. I shall speak about them one by one, and though you might also wish to know what B said, because he gave no answer at all, I cannot convey it to you.

First, he speaks of humans passing memories to humans. I think there is truly no proof for this, or rather, there might be proof to the contrary. Besides, I think this person is not unintelligent, and though he said something slightly correct, his reasoning simply missed the mark. Just as an insect becoming a butterfly is not changing into a different entity but the same life merely changing shape, when it takes the form of a butterfly, a human too overcomes a certain disaster, remaining the same person yet becoming like a different person. To one’s child as well, it is true that a human endures an extremely painful life throughout, and even the genes within the person change slightly, passing that change to the child; however, they do not pass memories as they are, nor even a portion of memories.

Next, let us proceed to personality being made by memories. This is merely the thought of my own mind, and scholars might not agree, but I form a belief that memories make up personality. Furthermore, returning to the previous thought, even if all memories are transferred identically to another person, if one’s own are not erased, which one will be known as “you”? Or continuing, if in the future the same things are encountered, and people meet without a single difference, just like the real thing, which one is the original “you”? If an answer to such a difficult question is demanded of me, even if there are two of “oneself,” it is known by the person themselves which is the original self; even if there are two of “me,” A’s A is the original, and B’s B is the original, and they would say the two do not differ.

Third, I wish to conclude with the idea that a person does not possess only a single life, but possesses countless lives, and even if memories are made to be erased between different lives, one’s essence remains. If those who study science were to hear this, they would likely laugh, thinking it nothing but a strange theory. However, what is “essence”? For instance, if I am the same person as that German who ruled cruelly, if I no longer wish to harm people and prefer writing essays like this, has my essence changed? Or if it has not changed, what then is essence?

For a while, we were speaking of practicing language, and the aforementioned Person B remarked, “Rather than learning a language, I would prefer to pour the memories of words directly into the brain.” Having heard this, I feel I must ponder it. Does the true essence of a language exist, or is a language nothing more than words and the manner of constructing sentences? For instance, if I take delight in literary words, resolutely devote my entire mind to them, and study day and night across several days—does that hold value if one could instead simply upload it into the brain without exerting any effort? Furthermore, whatever uploading it into the brain may entail, if one does not exert their own effort and merely feels the striving and encouragement of others, does that truly constitute one’s own genuine progress?

Without denying the coming of a future where anything can be uploaded into the brain, language will, of course, be included at that time; yet, will things like distinct languages even still remain? If people resolve that everyone should use a single language of the future generation, then languages such as this one will surely vanish as well.

Kinomoto Sakura