Have you ever wondered what happens the very second you hit “delete”? A photo, an email, a message, and then it's gone. It's like it didn't exist. But it was there. There was a feeling, a moment, a thought. And now it's empty. Or is it?

I wonder why we sometimes so easily erase what seemed important, and sometimes we can't erase a word written in our hearts. We go back to it mentally. We keep it in our minds even though it's physically gone. It turns out the delete button only works on the outside. On the inside, it doesn't.

There are people who delete correspondence immediately after an argument. There are those who keep all their messages for years. There are those who can erase a number and still remember it by heart. We think we're in control, that we're erasing traces. But the most important ones aren't in the screen, they're in us.

Somehow it seems that if emotions had their own folder, it would never get cleaned out. Everything is in there: shame for a stupid act, trembling from the first kiss, and despair from betrayal. We carry it around with us like invisible archives.

What if you could press a button and erase not just a file, but an emotion? Would you do it? Forgetting the pain sounds tempting. But then you might have to forget love. And joy. And all the experiences that make you you.

So maybe it's worth leaving something behind sometimes. Let it live on in the memory. Not as a pain, but as a reminder. That you felt. That you lived.