Remembering a Memory

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

...

I forget.

What makes a memory a ‘memory?’ Why does it seem that only 5% of what’s happened is going to be remembered?

I’m sitting alongside a journal I had written in LAST summer, merely a year ago. The handwriting’s different… but then again, it’s the same. But the writing… I didn’t write that! Who wrote that? I swear it wasn’t me. Why don’t I remember?

A friend of mine jumped in front of a train. Memory. To a distinct point when I was three is the earliest I can recall. I was sitting atop a vent, on the ground, while my father sat on the coffee table reading a newspaper. But my father doesn’t read newspapers! The air gave off a cool feeling to me. A fabricated memory? But why?

My mother walked in the room to hand me my bottle. Another memory. She was wearing all white. I remember thinking she looked just like what I would have imagined an angel to look like. Real? Or not real?

Yesterday, … sometimes I can’t remember yesterday.


Submitted: August 26, 2013

© Copyright 2022 parkelis. All rights reserved.

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Tyler Chase

Excellent, thank you

Tue, August 27th, 2013 5:21pm

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