Memories

Memories; we try to preserve them in any way we can. Our thoughts, pictures, places, sentimental objects that just lie on our desks; all of them remind us of different times of our lives. Sometimes you feel like piling up all those birthday cards and setting them on fire because they don’t tell the same story anymore, but you just can’t let go of those memories. They are a part of you. After a point you stop caring whether they’re good or bad, you just know you need them. You spend years building them, molding and remolding them, holding on to them.

You find yourself sitting up in your bed at night, sometimes with a smile over your face when they cross your mind, sometimes with that tear running down your cheek. But they are very tricky beings, they can deceive you, manipulate you, make you forget; make you remember things that weren’t even there. You start making up memories of things that didn’t even exist, you think about the walk you took with her on the road late in the evening, which never actually took place. You think about the late night phone conversations, which are actually a figment of your imagination.

Memories can be crippling. They are vicious. They are the quicksand you want to stay away from. If you wander into them, they will devour you. You will sink deeper and deeper. Your mind will get consumed going over and over and over things. But no matter how many times you relive them, you are brought to the same point in the end; you can never change the ending. But the ending can change you; forever.

Memories are closely followed by the What ifs. The What ifs are bitches of the highest degree to say the least. They are self reproducing, they are self nourishing and they are never ending. They play with your mind in ways you never thought were possible. They make you think you can change the endings; they make you think if you go over their evil twin, the memories, slowly and one step at a time again, they will get you to your desired results, but they lie. They laugh in your face when you reach the same end every time.

You have only one friend in this fight, complete and unopposed mind block. White noise. A police raid, nothing goes in nothing comes out. But the best thing about memories is that they never stop living. They’ll make you cry, they’ll make your stomach turn, they’ll make you punch the air, but they always tell you in the end that its time to make new ones. The good memories would never mean as much if the bad ones weren’t there to make you cry.

Letting go is the hardest thing in life.