I think it must just be me, but I love memories. I think I can call myself somewhat of a memory hoarder. I like preserving things for the record and having them remain so that I can always look back and remember and relive those memories, in case one day you forget what it was you felt and how you reacted or what you were going through, the experiences.
Just as I hate losing people, I think I also hate losing these memories. I get this sad feeling in the same way that I feel sad when I see a tree that's always been there, everyday I've walked by it for years, cut down. Maybe I oughtn't to develop such attachments.
But it's hard, to remain detached. Especially for someone like me. I am probably too sensitive for my own good. And when I get to the point where it's not taking me forward positively but dragging me down negatively, I think to myself that perhaps I should stop caring. Caring so much? Caring at all.
The good part is, these feelings are tantamount to inspiration. So here I am writing it out for everyone to see and wonder. In a few hours I will probably have gotten over this phase of dejection and will be kicking myself and making myself laugh and by then all this will have been just a blink in time.
But like all memories, maybe it's better to remember, so as to learn.
