(no subject)
You have an interesting relationship with your past. You keep pieces of it so you don't forget. Or maybe you just have an obsession with collecting. Or maybe it just makes you feel better. Stories always made you feel better...
You pick and chose what you want to keep, and what to exclude from your collection. You play exhibit curator for the box under your bed. You edit, delete, add, collect, and rearrange photographs, conversations, ticket stubs, paper napkins, letters, et cetera as necessary for yourself. It's the greatest myth you've ever told yourself: the myth about yourself.
From time to time you visit. Because at times you forget. It never fails to amuse you. You notice how much you've grown, how stupid you sometimes sound, and the crazy things that were once important to you... or still is. Sometimes you visit just because you miss it...
Is it a lie? But who else will ever see visit this exhibit? After all, it's inevitable that your past will happen... and who else but yourself will chose how you want to remember it for yourself?
You pick and chose what you want to keep, and what to exclude from your collection. You play exhibit curator for the box under your bed. You edit, delete, add, collect, and rearrange photographs, conversations, ticket stubs, paper napkins, letters, et cetera as necessary for yourself. It's the greatest myth you've ever told yourself: the myth about yourself.
From time to time you visit. Because at times you forget. It never fails to amuse you. You notice how much you've grown, how stupid you sometimes sound, and the crazy things that were once important to you... or still is. Sometimes you visit just because you miss it...
Is it a lie? But who else will ever see visit this exhibit? After all, it's inevitable that your past will happen... and who else but yourself will chose how you want to remember it for yourself?