Memories

The power of memory is terrible thing. The more you try to shut something out, the greater the force it has when it is reopened. We may not even try to fetch the memory, but our brain does it for us. One visual trigger is all it takes, and suddenly we find ourselves walking down memory lane. I would like to say the memories are pleasant because no matter what happens in the end, you can always think to the memory of what was once the reality, and it isn’t tarnished with age like the newest memories put to store. It sucks that having a scale of what one once felt is possible, simply by remembering one single detail. It floods our minds with emotions and drowns out our logic. We can’t rationalize. We can only think of the sorrowful feeling we get when we look back to those feelings. To know how powerful a simple touch or grasp, a biting whisper in our ear trying to contain its passion, a gaze that tells you everything you need to know, could remain imprinted into our mind forever. You begin to feel invigorated as you try to move past the heartbreak you once felt. You attempt to do a 180 and find a completely different type of feeling. But then reality hits you as you’re in the throes of a new fling, and you realize that it’s not the same. You tell yourself it’s what you wanted, change is good right? That’s not the case when the one who used to strive to change everything begs for it all to stay the same. They beg you to stop altering the world around them because it was once so fitting. It felt so right in that moment, and then in the next, it vanished right from their grasp. It is a terrible thing to have felt something and lost it, because sometimes you wish you had not felt at all. It’s impossible to live up to a passion as great as one has felt before, if it was the perfect fit. No one else could fit into the glass slipper, and it is the same with those who attempt to fill your heart with a new emotion. Compared to the perfectly slim and curved foot, it is too thick and soft around the edges. It may be a compassionate love, but it doesn’t fill the gap the same, even if it earnestly tries.

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