Forget it.

Dear God,
Thank you for my infallible memory, it makes it so much easier to cope with the rest of the hand you dealt me.
Love,
Elle

P.S. You should have read this with a sarcastic tone and don't tell Mom, but I know all about Santa.

♠

One upon a time there was a girl who remembered everything. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. Jealous? Don't be. Having a photographic memory is not so picturesque. Don't. Don't even say you wish. It's a curse, an absolute curse.

Take for example, the innocent white lie. You think you're sly, the world has taught so. The world is your enemy, because the Elle was put here to remember. And I will probably remember where I was when you told me, what I was wearing (and what you were wearing as well if you were lying to my face), what the air smelled of and whether or not it was humid. Then I will remind you of my sick gift. I forget nothing and you, my friend, are red handed. I'll put the apology on your tab. And this will be five years down White Lie Road. (And you will owe me a lot of white wine from the Loire Valley.)