Life goes by very fast. I was reminiscing about college, and it occurred to me that all these things happened, but I rarely take the time to reflect and remember stretches of my life, stretches which were once important to me.
I remember the girlfriends, I remember the partying, I remember some classes, I remember feeling limitless. But these memories are not usually not singular, they feel like they are bashed together with one memory.
One memory, not indicative of whole experiences, but one, strangely enough, that the brain latches onto without much control on my end. I try to recall faces, emotions, but I draw blanks. We are, after all, only ghosts concerned with living.
Still, even as I try to rationalize the reasons for forgetting, I can't help but to feel gutted. There is much in my life that feels like it has been unfinished. My experience in university, my experiences writing poetry, and my belief in truth are some things I mull over day to day, restless, not quite getting to the heart of the beast.
It is not enough to say I miss you, but it is a good to say I care.
"We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothing drug and sometimes to a dangerous poison." - Marcel Proust
