If you haven’t started a journal, I recommend doing so. This one’s almost 16 years old now.
Last night I went through a period of grieving. I tapped into memories of what was and how I felt about it all and cried a lot.
Today, I’ve spent most of the day reading stuff I’ve written in the deep past. And I’m surprising myself because my memories of how things went are not the way I remembered them.
Most of us have heard that statement at one time or another. But while I haven’t been as diligent as I could have been, I got into periods where I faithfully recorded life milestones. And what I wrote here is rarely what I remember. Fascinating.
Just now, I’m reading about the very first time I initiated on a crush I had. How it went down is not at all what I remember, which is kind of blowing my mind right now.
In my memory, I recall something far more awkward and stilted. I literally remember disbelief and total rejection for some reason.
But what I wrote was way more charitable and actually cooler than I ever thought I was back then. How do I not remember things in this way? Fuck…
Excuse me while I continue to relive my life.