I wonder if I’ll ever stop remembering those things I’d like to forget. Will I think of that creepy guy when I was 13 on a walk with my dog every time I drive down that street? Will I ever forget that tip that friend I’ve lost touch with told me about turning down the burner? Do I have to keep thinking about that fight we had in high school? It was so long ago. When will the remembering end? Sometimes I’d like it to stop.
But there’s so much I desperately want to keep in my head. Every conversation I have with my family (how many are left?), the way my friends and I used to hang out and talk all the time (I miss that), the things I loved about my first car (her name was Danny), those horrible loafers I wore to high school (I secretly loved them), the names of the kids at the dojo (I’m terrified of seeing them out and about).
So I need to write things down, and take pictures, and tell stories. It’s a large part of why I started this blog; so the remembering doesn’t stop. Because in the end, there’s so much more I’d rather not forget.