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I just re-discovered (I seem to do it on a regular basis) some posts of mine from almost 3 years ago, the ones I did as I was right in the middle of a very painful process of trying to revive a dying relationship, and it got me thinking about memories. I seem to be a pack rat when it comes to them, a hoarder of a sort. Except my hoarding is severely dysfunctional, as I seem to be incapable of documenting anything properly. For example, taking pictures is not something I manage well in situations that call for some sort of memorabilia. I go through once-in-a-lifetime events with NOTHING (mom hates it when I do that), but somehow manage to then fill up my phone with almost 5000 (FIVE THOUSAND) photos. Ok, so most of those are naked. That could explain things…

I like memories. I like the tangible things, too, since this is what usually brings on the reminiscing. I don’t usually feel the need to document everything, but it’s a real trip to have a sudden reminder of who I was and what I did. Recently, for some unknown reason, I compulsively looked for some of my old back-ups. What I did find were a few chat logs from the summer I moved from the relatively small town where I went to high school to the city I now call home. And oh, dear, was that eye-opening!

For one, I was a pissy little princess. I am honestly grateful that A still wanted to be my friend after the hissy fit I pulled when he told me about his feelings. I get it, I was going through a difficult time, and I vaguely now remember the continuous conflicts with my dad (and, to a lesser extent, mom) regarding my move, but the way I reacted was just uncalled for. On the bright side, I guess I learned from the way that DID NOT go so well, and next time a similar situation arose, I was better. Thank god for small miracles.

So, memories.

Maybe it’s because I’m happy right now, but feeling like I’m about to drift into something unknown. Maybe it’s because I’m really conflicted about what I want to do. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy and unmotivated, yet longing to work 80 hour weeks and be challenged. But I want to be able to remember these exact moments sometime later on, to know what I did and why, and to remember how it felt to feel like myself again.


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