Memories
Sometimes life seems to consist of memories alone, even while you are producing new ones. In moments when anxiety is
begging to become a memory; and in moments when your happiness is so blissful, reality is knocking on your door just to
make sure you know that this too will be a memory soon.
In moments of evaluating life and its events I occasionally wonder how many times I will feel physical pain or mental anguish.
The answer is obvious: Plenty. "What a pessimistic thought," I tell myself, but I can’t let it escape.
I think one of the most intriguing things in life is the evolving mind created and often traumatized by memories.