11 November 2010

remembering now

beautiful randomness

I live my life like a memory.
Constantly aware of my future's reminiscence of my current me, I wake up having only gained from my experience what I know I will have need for then. I see my future self needing my current me to be just as she is when she is. And she smiles knowing I was in on her (not so) secret, content that I paid her wish heed.

(What is a memory? Not a replica of an event or emotion, but a representation. A collection of images that aren't really even that. (Can I not, then, remember my future? I think they call that deja vu.) How, then, do we seperate our memories from our fantasies? Was it that he grazed my cheek with the intention of making my blood run hot, or did he really just want to brush the hair from my face? fantasies, dreams, memories, desires. what are they all but intangible actualities: known, maintained, inexcapable, true.. to someone at least. namely: me)

She lives her life exactly as she imagined (remembered) she would. Because she lived her life exactly as she wanted (needed) to.

(Is it impossible to enjoy life as it happens if you're too busy trying to remember it before it's over? Or is it that you enjoy it that much more for taking it in. Twice the fun. Three times upon my future's reminisence. Mmm, his warmth is becoming mine. became mine. becomes mine..)

What marvel there is in the comfort of knowing that if given the chance, your future you wouldn't change a thing about who your are, were, am

the paint splattered walls of the mind match the slush scribbled parameters of this house.. or is it the inverse?

Either way, I remember them.

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