It's hard to know a little,
or so that's what I thought
but now I'm reconsidering
the worth of knowing lots.
It's fun to do the research
it's fun to learn the stories
I thought if I could know them all
it'd bring me wealth and glory.

I assumed a day on Jeopardy
was always in the cards,
so I'd dig through textbooks eagerly
and practice my flash cards.
I wasn't great at homework,
no patience to review.
So my grades were never great
but my tests would pull me through

I collected nerdy secrets
fun facts and lore galore
If you've seen a puzzle
I've likely seen it once before
I read so many books
and I followed many plots
and turned the page through turns of phrase
as words taught me thicker thoughts.

But now at half past thirty
I don't feel quite the same
about the stacks of useless facts
I have piled in my brain
I could kinda use that space
and I find more oft than not
when I try to find particulars
I can't quite reach the spot.

I get lost among the memories
but don't find what I am seeking,
what's the point of knowing things
if you can't use them while you're thinking?

So I started letting go,
I started cleaning house.
making space behind my face
while expired thoughts fall out.

I wasn't really sure at first
if forgetting more would hurt,
but finding something new, again
is quite a sweet dessert.
I return to shows I know I know
and watch them almost new.
The details, jokes, and subtle twists
do what they're meant to do.

And I can hear that story,
the one you always tell,
as if it was the first time
you pulled it off the shelf.
Amnesia isn't my desire,
I hold some things quite dear,
but now I think it's not so bad
when smaller things escape my ears.