Here and now is where you are. The past is gone. Memories fade. Memories change, evolve. Usually I recall the things I did, the things I said. Deep inside, there is this wrenching sensation. I don't want to remember it. I used to say, "Should I ever meet my past self, I'd hit me." As I sift through the memories, mistakes are accentuated, blunders are emphasized. It brings tears to my eyes. Where did all the good times go?
Where will I go? The future is like a long black void we are racing into. A tunnel maybe? There is no sound, only the echo of our voices and the hammering and groaning of our machines as we speed into the darkness. Maybe we'll hit a wall, soon.
I keep notes to myself. I've started to emphasize the good things in my notes. The happy moments, the ecstasy of the summer sun in early spring, the languid movements late in the morning when light is flooding the bedroom and my love lies there, her hair disheveled, one hand under her cheek, too tired to move, too sleepy to answer.
There is no way to know the future, but writing notes to my future self, I feel less lonely. I am reminded of what was good in my life. I am one of the happiest people alive. Writing these notes makes believe there will actually be somebody there, to read them, enjoy them, laugh at the memories. The darkness is dispelled. Continuity has been restored. I am rooted in my past and see myself moving through time, a delicate dance, a beautiful reign.
SiteMap / AllPages / Out / kensanata@yahoo.com / Last change: 2001-04-09