Memories never change

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One of my poem/song lyrics says:

They say we love our memories, because unlike people, our memories, they never change.

Though in theory, memories never change, they do get clouded, warped, and in reality, we can change them in our minds. People are infinitely more capable of change, and though I love the line, the truth is that memories can also change.

I was talking about this with a friend last night. I shared the line with her, and we discussed it. I’ve been thinking about it further, and I believe that we humans tend to romanticize things in our hearts, minds, and memories.

I am extremely logical in how I think, yet I am also extremely emotional and passionate. This often has me at odds with myself. I can’t understand things and why I feel a certain way, but when I look at reality, the facts, it simply doesn’t make sense, so I brush it off and bury it.

When I think of the person I wrote the line about, in my mind I see this perfect, flawless relationship. Everything was perfect, and I regret having lost her at times. That’s the momentary feeling, the emotion, the romanticizing of it.

When I look at reality, and I examine the relationship, I recognize that this couldn’t have been so. I’ll give you a perfect example of why I am convinced, from a rational standpoint that we were not perfect together.

One day, I had sex with one woman early in the morning. We hung out all night partying, and then went to a hotel, and got it on. Then later that afternoon I met up with someone else, things went well, and then I had sex with her as well. Later on that day, I went home to the woman I have been romanticizing in my memories, and then I had sex with her.

I slept with three different women, at three different points of the day. If our relationship was so perfect, how could I have done something like that? I’m not perfect my friends, but one thing that I am is loyal. When things are right, when they are not, apparently I’m not.

I dated a woman who lived in Australia, and believe it or not, I stayed faithful to her, even while we were so far apart. I believed we’d be together, and I wanted things to be right. That is until she told me that she had stepped out of the relationship. At that point, I went to work on addressing my neglected needs. But I was loyal, until she wasn’t. If she hadn’t told me, because she wanted to be completely open with me, odds are we’d possibly still be together. Who knows, but it was likely, we had unbelievable chemistry together, and our passion was so intense. This isn’t something you experience everyday, and I knew this. But I digress.

In any case, back to the point, if we were so perfect together, how could I have done that? One thing I will say, I was way younger, and much stupider. At that point, I was definitely thinking primarily with my penis. And though much hasn’t changed in terms of my penis, I now have greater control of the man tool. Along with greater perspective and reason.

Sometimes, when I look at a beautiful woman, I observe her curves, her tender smile, her soft lips, and I start to wonder what it would feel to make love to her. I wonder what her mouth would taste like, I yearn to know the pleasure sounds that she’d make as I kiss between her legs and all over her body. These types of thoughts still go through my mind, but nowadays I can control them. I stop myself from taking action and pursuing the desires.

The other thing I recognize is that as beautiful as she may appear to me, at the end of the day, she’s just another human being, just like me. As much as I desire her, as perfect as she may appear, I know that eventually she would become normal to me. It’s a sad fact of life that we put people on very high pedestals, and once we get to really know them, we realize how flawed and human they really are. Being aware of this fact helps keep me rooted as well. It helps keep the urgency to pounce, and my desire under control. I may still want it, but I know the deal, and I control it. But when I was younger, I lacked this perspective. I saw, I wanted, and I pounced like a starving Lion on a Gazelle. It was wrong, but it was what I did, and I own it.

Logic and reason keep me from falling into the dark abyss of depression when somehow my mind is dragged to the past. I apply this way of thinking to all matters in my life, from the loss of a loved one, to friendship, to work, and even everyday frustrations. Perspective is an extremely useful tool, and one of the greatest in my arsenal for life survival.

Memories never change, but we do, and in turn, they too can evolve with us. So, maybe they do change and my poem is hogwash.

This is the song I’m referring to, along with the accompanying lyrics. Enjoy this original, heartfelt piece.

Forgotten

Visited by the ghost of a forgotten pain that laid buried, interred,
repressed, suppressed, in a perpetually dormant reclusive hiatus

These memories of past buried deep down inside
sacrificed to this pain and its numbing divide
without a doubt self destructive not a flaw its design
sharpened razors cut no more, they’ve been dulled over time
rusting prison bars imposed to solitary confines
thoughts imprisoned, heart’s the captor, abuses my mind
convicted felon, lost my freedom, I’ve been stripped of all rights.
she threw away the key, I’ve been stripped of all rights
can’t recall how it felt to take those walks after dark,
to watch her smile, as were strolling, holding hands in the park
the taste of her kiss, the sway of her hips,
from the past, all these thoughts, with this pain
brings forth the abyss.
ask I’ll swear I cant recall the lovely scent of her hair,
on bended knee, hearts gone cold, hypnotized by her stare,
aching shoulders, bleeding heart, a heavy cross that I bare
and with her loss to this pain none could ever compare

familiar pain, yeah it fades, fades to a blur
refused to die, seeks way back, I wont let it return
all forgotten, memory gone, I swear I’m telling the truth
I just…. I can’t remember you

Demons smiles, avenge her memory, as I live on a dare
carry on, the days go by, I try to bury despair
price my life is giving rise to these forsaken nightmares
from the depths, they come forth and lie awake in my mind
extended hands demanding payment, they collect for my crimes
no forgiveness, only silence, silent passage of time.
from those days I see her fade to such a far away place
remember names from the time frame as they lay claim to my days
with the time that passed I sigh, I cried, its never the same
purest innocence is gone, its on a runaway train
tiny fragments of a memory, dreams are all that remain
hidden scars left behind as the wounds fades away,
still I’m loving that I hate you, am I going insane?
I’ve forgotten how to miss you does that make any sense
how I begged, pleaded, cried dropping down to my knees
grown man cried as you laughed, wretched sight that was me

(familiar pain, yeah it fades, fades to a blur
Refused to die, seeks way back, I wont let it return
All forgotten, memory gone, I swear I’m telling the truth
I just…. I can’t remember you

With every passing moment the distance between us grows greater and great
Physical, spiritual, emotional, complete, detachment, gone, disappeared,
while my memories, my memories of you they grow ever more faint.
I just cant remember you. I’m sorry. I loved you, I still feel you, this memory of what was you.
they say we love our memories because unlike people, memories they never change.
This may be true but all the same its just a damn shame
that my cherished pain which was all that remained
from the best of our times within my mind has all but been slain.

And you know what the saddest part of it all is: I don’t remember
forgetting you.

I don’t remember forgetting you

familiar pain, yeah it fades, fades to a blur
Refused to die, seeks way back, I wont let it return
All forgotten, memory gone, I swear I’m telling the truth
I just…. I can’t remember you

 



Note the date on a post as it may be an old point of view. If you learn that your views are wrong, yet they remain the same, then you are a fool.

The opinions and views expressed are solely those of the author.