Memories.
That’s all we are. We are made of them. Defined by them. We
are also other people’s memories. Memories are all that are left when we leave.
Some memories we kill to keep. Some memories we kill to get
rid of. Sometimes literally. Sometimes figuratively. Some people self-medicate.
Some go crazy, We’ve all been there. It’s the human condition.
I remember when I was a kid, and the fear of death and the
eternal wouldn’t let me sleep. So I’d stare out of the window at the top of a
conifer in my neighbor’s yard. Much like how people daydream and see shapes in
clouds, I’d see shapes and figures in the utmost branches of this tree and I’d
make up stories. Anything to make me forget how small and pointless my life
was.
These days, death doesn’t keep me up at night. I’ve been to
war three times. I haven’t had that much personal tragedy in my life, but we’re
all surrounded by it. Mot a day goes by that I don’t read a news story about
some random person killing their entire family for reasons we’ll never
understand. Wish I could forget that shit.
I wish I could forget the time I peed my pants in fourth
grade during a field trip in front of everybody. They had to give me jeans from
the lost and found of whatever random school we were at.
I wish I could forget the intimate moments. The special moments
I had with people. Because they are gone. And are never coming back. It’s funny,
people say to not live in the past, but that’s all we can do. We can’t live in
the future.
I feel bad for people with Hyperthymesia. I wouldn’t wish it
on my worst enemy. To have total recall of everything in your life is so much
torture. I’d rather be Guy Pierce from Memento. If you can’t remember,
you can’t be sad.
Maybe I’m seeing all of this the wrong way. Maybe I’m
supposed to cherish the memories. Maybe I should visit my memory palace more
often. Swim in Lake Me.
You guys remember that time…?
