The loss of memory is one of the most profound feelings of loss I have ever experienced.
The irony is not that I didn’t expect things to fade. I knew they would leave me. I just never thought it would matter.
I always thought I could replace the old with the new. However, there comes a time when you can’t do something new. And then you cling.
But the nature of memories is that they’re imperfect. The details continuing to be viewed through dirtier and dirtier water.
Sometimes I try to back into the details through deduction. It’s a gross and addictive exercise. That really only ends when I accept the experience as a feeling, undefined by the specifics.
I wanted to feel things when I was young. I wanted to feel things fully. I just didn’t know what that meant.