For Good, For God, Forego, Forgot

You give it up for good, but what does for good even mean? Forever? Until it’s convenient? Or maybe just until your wife reminds you of that thing she definitely told you last week, which somehow slipped your mind. You can see her saying it, hear the words floating around, but can you remember what it was? Nope. So, was that thing for good or just for God’s sake, don’t forget again? Either way, it’s all a blur now. Maybe they’re just different ways of convincing yourself you’re still on top of things.

And then there’s the whole for God deal. You think, "Yeah, I’m giving this up for something bigger, more meaningful." But halfway through, you’re questioning if you’re doing it because you really believe, or because you think it’ll make you look less forgetful. Does it even count if your mind is still circling back to what you meant to give up? Was it that habit you’re struggling with, or maybe something trivial that you attached too much importance to? It’s funny—sacrifice feels like peace, until you realize you’ve lost track of what you’re sacrificing. Was it for good? Or just another thing to forget?

And somewhere in all this giving up, you forget. Like the time you were supposed to pick up milk, but somehow, you’re driving home with chips. You forego one thing, forget another, and before you know it, the whole concept of sacrifice turns into a tangled mess of "did I really quit that?" or "was I supposed to remember this?" The things we give up for good, for God, they blur together in a haze of what was and what wasn’t. And just like that, you realize—you forgot why you even started this whole thing.