The following is an excerpt from a journal I had to keep for my English Composition class a few semesters back. I kept forgetting to write in it until the last minute.
25 Oct 1997, 3:30 pm
See? I can remember. Sorta. Sometimes I remember too much. I remember things I’d rather forget. Usually these things manage to be embarassing moments… Ones that I have played over and over again in my mind, mentally beating myself up for not doing something different. But I wouldn’t give it up. Giving up my memories would also mean forgetting the good times. The birthday cakes and the music and the times I finally beat that computer game. The times at family gatherings running and laughing with my cousins. The pleasant surprises. Helping at that homeless shelter in D.C. The trip to New Orleans. Family vacations. There are so many things I don’t want to forget.
I guess it’s worth the bad memories.
Copyright Sara Fawbush 1999.
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