memories are strange creatures. what i recall as beautiful and shimmering with near perfection, another player in the moment might see as dull and common. they may not remember at all. i wonder what makes us remember, and why we shade memories the way we do. i have three siblings to remind me of things i've forgotten and vice versa. our shared memories often tell quite different versions of the same snapshot in time. i wonder why. why one afternoon in 1989 jumps out of my mind as if it happened yesterday, but i can't remember most of my high school experience. are my memories true i wonder. are lies told in the small spaces of my mind that i know only as truth... can we trust our own memories?
just bumping around in my mind today.
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