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I am not who I was. I am, and I am not. I do not do the things I used to do. I do not feel the things I used to feel. My memories are only memories of memories, not memories of real things.
A memory of a memory of a memory...
Here in the South as a child, in the evening walking into, or maybe it was out of, a movie theater with my dad and his girlfriend. The vivid contrast between the cool quiet interior, and the *alive* warm humid outside... the warm thick enveloping sweet-scented air and the gentle sounds of crickets; the magical world outside.
But even when I go outside, it's not there anymore, the magical world. I'm not sure it ever was.
Were things really more vivid back then? Is there some cloak over my brain? Or were things really always like *this*, and is it those rare memories which deceive?
something else, something...
what was it?... thoughts flicker in and out... dreams?... what was it?... brownies cupcakes shower tags flowers what what what... oh yes
It was in the 8th grade, when I first remember memories of feeling depressed. Of sitting on the steps outside the apartment, and crying. Playing raquetball by myself, hurling some of my anger against the bouncing rubber ball. But I also remember one time in the 7th grade, when I cried, alone in the hotel room in Cairo, during our school trip. But that memory doesn't have as much an aura of depression about it. It might have been hormones; puberty. It would have been around that age... menstruation started in the 5th or 6th grade and stopped in the 7th or 8th (amenorrhea), and started again in the 9th or 10th. I don't remember any great feelings of depression before the 8th grade, anyway. But was life still vivid, back then? Could it be that crying and feelings of depression brought some kind of chemical cloak down over my brain, which never retreated?
A memory of a memory of a memory...
Here in the South as a child, in the evening walking into, or maybe it was out of, a movie theater with my dad and his girlfriend. The vivid contrast between the cool quiet interior, and the *alive* warm humid outside... the warm thick enveloping sweet-scented air and the gentle sounds of crickets; the magical world outside.
But even when I go outside, it's not there anymore, the magical world. I'm not sure it ever was.
Were things really more vivid back then? Is there some cloak over my brain? Or were things really always like *this*, and is it those rare memories which deceive?
something else, something...
what was it?... thoughts flicker in and out... dreams?... what was it?... brownies cupcakes shower tags flowers what what what... oh yes
It was in the 8th grade, when I first remember memories of feeling depressed. Of sitting on the steps outside the apartment, and crying. Playing raquetball by myself, hurling some of my anger against the bouncing rubber ball. But I also remember one time in the 7th grade, when I cried, alone in the hotel room in Cairo, during our school trip. But that memory doesn't have as much an aura of depression about it. It might have been hormones; puberty. It would have been around that age... menstruation started in the 5th or 6th grade and stopped in the 7th or 8th (amenorrhea), and started again in the 9th or 10th. I don't remember any great feelings of depression before the 8th grade, anyway. But was life still vivid, back then? Could it be that crying and feelings of depression brought some kind of chemical cloak down over my brain, which never retreated?