I am a horrific hoarder. I hug grudges for far longer than necessary. I harbour signals from ships that pass in the night, even though it's clear that boat is never going to rock up to the port. I keep feelings of people, of times gone by, locked up inside of me for what seems like an eternity. I also have a clay gargoyle I made when I was thirteen still sitting on my shelf, but that's a more tangible proof of the point. It's broken into several pieces and besides, I never was that good at art.
Today, I have remembered.
Today, I have remembered.
I have a super memory. For faces, for comments, for places, for moments. I like to collect things and I like to remember things. But not everything I collect and recall is good for the mind. I don't need to pick up everything I pass by. I don't need to keep everything I've picked up, like those shiny conkers I gathered all those weeks ago, that would have otherwise been left to rot in the wood and are now sitting, rotting on my shelf instead.
Sometimes, the mind needs to forget. Sometimes, the mind needs to let go. Sometime, I should really get around to sorting out my shelves.
Today, I have hung on to history.
Sometimes, the mind needs to forget. Sometimes, the mind needs to let go. Sometime, I should really get around to sorting out my shelves.
Today, I have hung on to history.
I need to let go.
Flitterbox: Hot Butter ~ Popcorn
I rarely bother with grudges. They're so time consuming and taste horrid. But otherwise I am quite similar. I have a host of things I really shouldn't still have were they not connected to something special. as well as the memories and all that, I have folders of old letters and cards from lovely people and lovely girls, as well as presents that range from cuddly toys to kinder egg toys and a small plastic Stegosaurus called Steve. And you already know about my scary One Hour Photo Photowall. An entire wall of memories and people, a good few of whom I no longer see or talk to - but I can see it and remember the night, remember the conversations and the funny quirks that made them who they were.
ReplyDeleteThere are many moments and people, though, that I struggle to remember. Conversations and experiences that have slipped out of my mind. It's sad, but I try not to dwell. I've never been a fan of nostalgia. Spending too much time with the past wastes a present that could be spent building towards a future.
And I think that's the most pretentious thing I've ever said. But I quite like it.
I think I write just to get all those long remembered feelings and memories out of me. Like if I put them down in pen and ink and scrunch the paper up with enough vengeance, I can scrunch all those feelings out of me and throw them in the bin.
ReplyDeleteThis is one area where you and I are very similar. I am terrible at letting go. I'm getting better at getting rid of physical stuff - belongings, clothes, mementoes - but no better at holding on to memories and ideas and ships that have proved themselves unseaworthy or bound for different ports.
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