Experience

I'm thinking about the mess I’ve made all in the name of experience. Experience involves the dissolution of memory. Why is it we wish to be so worldly and yet cringe when it shows in our face? I have dozens of little pots on my bathroom shelf claiming to erase my experience, the late nights and variety of substances. I don the mask of rosy cheeks and skin aglow to pretend, to the world, that I have seen little and done less.