Trophy cabinet

When I want to forget a thing I did, I make myself a trophy, and it goes up on my shelf. It sits next to the plaque I got for falling asleep at work, the cup I won for throwing up on my sister's bridesmaid, the foot-in-mouth shield that gets my name engraved in a new place every few months. On Sundays I take them down and polish them until they sparkle, and I look into the gold and see my face reflected back, smiling.