Memories In The Making II

I am unconsciously aware – paradox? – of every little thing we do. I pay attention, and I mentally record things. I try to save everything. Every detail, anything the least bit interesting, everything.

Later when I have the time, I write things down. Things that nobody else but me would find exciting or funny or moving or the least bit remarkable. I record all I can remember. I re-read what I write. I let my head re-live the recent moments. I savor the good ones over and over again. I walk into a new addiction, a new different fierce type of addiction, with determination.

I intently run the process, and I call it – the bland obvious – “Making Memories”.

Why would someone whose brain-cells have been burning with nostalgia, over other memories, work so diligently in making sure that new ones arrive safely to nest? What if it backfires? What if one day I lose what I have now? Won’t spiteful innocent-looking Nostalgia haunt my ass the same way it does now with other good memories? Why would I do it so consciously? And why am I unconsciously so keen on it?

Did I do this before? This process?
I probably did, but never with this intensity. Never with such great intent and caution and obsession.

Am I defying the fear of losing or am I scared of it more than ever before?

It won’t stop.

Explore posts in the same categories: Ranting, Scribbles

Tags: aches, mental, Nostalgia, Twisted

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