Because we are so unconsciously connected, and it is through these connections that we make sense of our self, city, place, identities and world, when someone dies this entire link of connection dies along with it. The energy that flows elegantly through all of us no longer does so in the way it used to. Everything is disturbed, disrupted, deconstructed and we are reminded of how everyone holds everything together. When one leaves, we feel the emptiness of a once harmoniously occupied space. An amputation of an energetic limb. We get shocked and saddened at the beautiful possibility of a life fully lived and the conflitcual void that comes along the inability for one to do so.
My memory sucks, he told me.
At that moment the entire future taking its joy from rosy retrospection vanished.
Turned grey and too present.
Too real, to sharp.
Life is lived for moments, but if those moments are gone and we cant remember them, did we really live them?
Does my brain know how I felt that day in the tent near the beach?
How that glimpse of second changed my life?
Forever altered its course?
Do you know all the things you felt and told me early on in our love?
Where is the respect for the past, to hold on to it?
By holding on to memories we hold on to the present which is to say that our futures will be rich.
A life fully lived.
Emotions fully experienced.
He said he does not remember.
I am the one always reminding things.
At times I feel like I live for the both of us.
The present to real and too gone.
I look deep into his eyes.
We are having a beautiful moment.
But I feel sad.
I want this moment to last forever.
It will last forever for me.
It is already gone for him.
He will forget.
And I will be here, a bridge between memory and present.
I have a theory.
I think anxiously attached people remember better.
Who am I anxiously attached with?
Perhaps a better question would be, when am I anxiously attached?
With work and with love.
Not with friends.
The more anxiety i feel, the more my brain regisers what threatnes me.
What makes me tick.
And it will be forever there inside.
But I dont want memory to be associated with anxiety or obsessions.
Perhaps I have a beautiful brain, able to take in everything and cherish life.
Memory is a choice, Ocean Vuoung says.
It is a choice to see, hold on and remember.
That’s fascinating, because one of the greatest insults that you can level at a lover in the modern world, apparently, is to say, “I want to change you.” The Ancient Greeks had a view of love which was essentially based around education; that what love means — love is a benevolent process whereby two people try to teach each other how to become the best versions of themselves.