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Broken Down on Memory Lane

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I always keep notes and cards that friends write me. Sometimes I read over them, and I get sad when I realize that I don't have that same exact moment anymore. Or that same exact relationship with that same exact person anymore. But I know that for one moment, however long ago that moment may have been, I was on their mind. I get dizzy thinking about how fast everything changes and about how, in the midst of things, my head somehow forgot to catch up with my body in the "now."

Everything that I write, I save on the computer because I am forgetful and I am careless. I lose things that i write down on paper. Try losing the internet. You can't just rip that apart like you can with words on paper -- which is what it any of it really amounts to anyway. Words on paper. I don't want to lose a single thought or a single moment of my life that I'd gotten around to documenting. Even now, I know that I'd like to have a reminder of my fifteen-year-old self with me when I'm a zillion years old.

Over the years, I've found myself adding to an already-too-big stash of kindergarten drawings and elementary school projects. Admittedly, I never actually find the time to look at a clay-and-styrofoam model of the solar system, but I just like knowing that it's there. That the past is at my disposal at all times.

Basically what I'm saying is that I am afraid of forgetting. I don't want a single chapter of my life to be missing, so I never have the heart to throw any of it away. Once I toss out what's-her-face-from-whenever's letter, she is gone. As soon as I lose track of a picture or of some writing, that day may have never happened.

Once you forget, it doesn't exist anymore.

Then there are times when it hurts to remember. Because all these things are memories, and only memories. They the carrot dangling in front of the horse. They are only intangible thoughts and recollections.

And no number of notes, or blogs, or finger paintings will be able to bring them back for you.




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