Verily verily, I am perturbed. The more I try to gather my memory, the more I lose it. Sounds insane but this is a reality I’ve strained to come to terms with ever since I felt my being. Lots of things happen in one’s life but not all these things enjoy the privilege of memory. Looking back, I see a blurred image of a toddler in me, a cryful little one always wanting to be attended to. All I recall are the fearful and anxious moments that have been. I am convinced my past wasn’t all that gloomy, I’m also convinced it wasn’t all that cold and disappointing. I’m sure I laughed and played more than I cried or mourned. But where exactly did all these good old memories go?
I would like to undergo a total recall of all the goods in my past. I’m afraid this is what some people may refer to as selective amnesia but they would never understand. I want to see myself dancing to my favourite tune and playing with my significant others while feeling safe in their arms. It is completely unfair to easily remember the worst and most traumatic experiences and forget the best of experiences. Truth is, they are stored somewhere. Yes, they exist and what worries me is what it will take for them to manifest. Will there be a price I will have to pay? Is there pain in the offing? Come on, what pains more than having good old memories locked somewhere in middle of nowhere you have no idea of?
I reckon memory is powerful. Without it, I may not be able to put anything into perspective. The memory I have of people, places and things make me relate to them. Memory breathes new life in one’s mind. It can keep you excited and motivated while on the flip side, it can be horrific. Memory is real. It attracts a fantastic feeling when good and can be very traumatic when otherwise. It can never be faked and this is the reason why I demand answers of where some good memories go to.
To purposely forget one’s past is cowardice. There comes a time when happiness yielded from past experiences is what we want to feel. However, this is often overshadowed by a dark past. A past you can do nothing about. A past whose scars you see every time you look at yourself in the mirror. But why? Isn’t it easy to forget or simply replace such? If bad memory was a person I would gladly call it a b**ch for so many reasons. Most importantly, for denying me happiness at my neediest hour as well as causing me pain even in my happiest moments. What a shame!
Where do I get you good lost memory? I want to feel you right now, this minute if not today, not tomorrow. I want to offer you a big HUG if only you could tell me where you went. I hate to be slave to my bad past. We get promises of a better future every day but one good memory offers enough impetus to get to see another day. Make no mistake. Bad old memories count and so do good ones. And if at all the good old memories are gone forever, I need them one more time just to bid and offer a proper send off. Everyone deserves a chance to properly say good bye to a loved one. It is true good things do not last forever, but for this to happen to something immaterial, the only thing that keeps us alive and gives hope is a complete catastrophe.
It all happened before I could learn how to read and write well, I could have recorded ’em in a diary, a dairy that would today be so dear to me. It matters less now. The fact that I can remember the intriguing ones makes me maad. There were no smartphones or quick cameras to record them. I refuse to believe that they are lost forever, I refuse to say good bye. I live on with the hope that change will one day change this reality.
This I will never ever forget!