I should really stop writing about things out of memory. Memory is so unreliable. Most of the details are lost, and sometimes it’s those details that actually matter most. Details that define the moment. And now they will never be there, all because of my undependable, unreliable, failing memory.

When we tell stories about ourselves, naturally this would only apply to stories about us that have happened in the past, we often begin with the words, “I remember when…,” or “There was this one time…” But the truth is, we couldn’t really remember when that was exactly, and neither was it only really one time, but the story would have happened to us multiple times over the course of our past lives.

But for certain, any story that we tell about ourselves would always be about something that already happened in the past.

Now my failing memory just forgot where this was supposed to lead to.


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