No one known to me at this moment has died, but something has. This is an ode to the things I know I can no longer remember.

I always feel like my memory is shit. Like gaping holes in Swiss cheese, that is my brain. It’s probably due to the fact my recall is not exercised. Much like my physical being, I just am. I grew up wanting to be a writer, but factually I am a shit storyteller. The stories I do remember are in fact me remembering telling the story. I once blogged about being so drunk one night I took money from a total stranger. I didn’t tell it from actual memory of the event, but by having told it before to others. But maybe unbeknownst to me that’s how it works. I wouldn’t know otherwise at this point.

When I was in college I would drive home to visit. No matter the distance I was away from home, I could calculate time and miles per hour to know when I would get there. Now I can’t do that if I had to. Math usually hasn’t been a strong suit. I mean today I had to count on my fingers 20 – 6. I now know it is 14, but eventually I will forget and when it comes time, I will have to count again.

I wish my memory was stronger. I have this live and let live mentality and I joke that I am the opposite of a hoarder – I am a purger. And I stand true to this because just since I have been posting in the last month, I purge posts back to drafts. Last two days I have purged 3 or 4. I don’t like remembering almost as much as I wish I could remember. When I come across something from my past, good or bad, I feel the need to dispose of it. It’s the past. I may have had happy moments with a former friend, but since they graduated to former, I don’t want to revisit that anymore.

So then I am left with gaping holes. Like Swiss cheese.

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