Memories are weird things, eh? My best friend and I were talking about last summer today, and we were remembering days of what we did (because it was epic).
They come in still frames, mostly. It's like my mind took pictures periodically throughout the day, storing away moments to be revisited later. I can pick out the weirdest details from those pictures, things you didn't even notice at the time that are subconsciously stored away.
I use to be so scared to forget. I wrote in a journal everyday for at least 4 years so that at any point I could go back and relive one of those days. The night before every birthday was not filled with the excitement that is is for most kids. I never felt ready to move on to a new year, I wasn't done with the age I was. I never read those journals, well once in a while. But it brings back weird feelings, I don't really like it. It's the things my brain chose not to remember.
I think I wrote so much because I valued what happened each day. People got tired of my not-really-that-exciting days, and didn't care to hear the stories. But I cared. Things happened that are ingrained in history forever. I made choices and said words and went places that ripple affected who knows how many people.. That's a scary thought. Literally, you choose to make a left instead of going straight, somebody has to wait 5 seconds and the world is a different place than had you gone straight. That's kind of a weak example, but literally every smile, every word is history, never to be seen again. I'm a little disturbed by that, not being able to go back. I guess life balances itself out with the future. As many moments that are gone and irretrievable, there are still coming. Choices that I'm left to make, people to meet, places to go.
I don't know, I feel like it matters. Everyday, as uneventful as they can be.
