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2018-06-27 - 12:21 a.m.

I had forgotten so much.

I worry so much about death and the finality of it but when I look back at old things and times and find I have forgotten basic aspects of myself and who I was and what I cared about it is like that erasure of self happens all along the way.

But memory, I argue with myself, what about memory?

And yes it's true that it is flawed. We invent and distort and get things wrong. We rewrite whenever we relive the past. That is sometimes the best part of it, rewriting our story and making everything fit together so that the present was always inevitable and therefore somehow "right." But if you have a group of people to reminisce with, you can try to correct errors, to get something that all agree upon, and try (perhaps) succeed in a little mental time travel.

Regardless of how accurate memory, today I needed to spend time traversing the past. And it did me good.

And then I went back to the documentary evidence I have which hasn't changed or faded or been edited by me and I saw two people I don't know anymore: one of them is my (my then-self's goneness arguable, I suppose). And one of them is you, and you are really truly gone. And I am sorry for it.

 

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