Many years of my life account for a lost story of forgotten places and people. Years of my life are a blurr of aging memories, that fade further away. What I want now is different from what I wanted then. I need to fill in the gaps of time, that only I know about and can explain,or ignore.
Living a memory over again is foolish. My mind is the only time machine I have and my memory fails too often to be accurately reliable. Unless I have documented the events of the days and weeks and hours, I cannot recall deeply repressed memories unless I am prompted by a visual or audio prompt or a journal entry, that might jar a memory from its hiding place. The lost story of my life is lost forever, because I cannot or do not want to remember it.
What I was has little or no resemblence to what I am now. The odd transformation from what I was to what I’ve become didn’t happen quickly I created it troughout my life. I cannot remember my losses or hurts or offenses of my past. I only think of now, I only assess my actions on what I am feeling and doing now, not on what I did in the past or want to do in the future, because the past is gone and the future hasn’t arrived yet.
L.A. Steel
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