the fickleness of it all

Why do we remember when we want to forget?
Why do we forget when we want to remember?
The mind is a fickle thing, never really thinking on its own.

Why do we love to hate, but hate to love
and why do we love to fall in love
but hate ourselves when we can’t pull ourselves up after?

Why can’t we forget to hate
or remember to love unconditionally
despite whatever games our minds play?