Fee Fi Fo Fum.
i smell the blood of a brainfarting chinaman.

Memory

Monday, March 03, 2008

i've been thinking about memory these few days. i read somewhere that memory is "a tricky thing. it's not linear. you reassemble the fragments every time and 'reconstruct' the past". and i don't know if that's true but it sure sounds right to me.

see, there's this memory in my mind that i'm not sure if its a memory or not. i have this distinct memory of my dad bringing me to a dairy farm, way back when i could count my age on one hand (and now i can't count my age with ALL my limbs. geez i'm old.) but the thing is, my dad doesn't really remember if he ever did that. and i'm not that sure if it ever happened. which means this 'memory' of mine could be nothing more than a particularly vivid dream. it's kinda weird. also sort of intriguing. i mean, some things i remember: i remember crying my eyes out the first day at preschool. i remember my primary school principal addressing my batch. i remember all that, and those memories have a distinct sense of reality to them. i know they're real. but some things? not so much.

and i think about her and those few weeks and i realise that almost no one else knows anything about it, and i think about how weird, how different our subsequent relationship has been as compared to my (few) other breakups and i can almost, almost, make myself believe that those few weeks never happened, that it was all a dream, because no one else knows, and she doesn't seem to acknowledge it, so it seems like i'm the only person in the world still validating its existence. and if i simply.... stop?

if i just stop, who else is left to say that it was real and not just a dream?

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