• Memories

    I have a strange affliction. I remember things. Something that may have happened twenty or more years ago, I can recall it as if it happened yesterday. Not perfectly, but the important parts are there, emotion, images, often in intense detail. It often makes many things difficult for me to deal with.

    I’ve never been able to decide if it’s a curse or a boon. It has helped me endlessly in a practical sense; remembering where I put my keys when distracted, I just play it back. When it comes to human interaction, this where it seems to be a curse.

    Most people can’t do this, I’m pretty sure. I often watch people struggle to remember what to me appears something seemingly simple to do.

    One way it sometimes causes problems with others is in when someone realises I remember so many details about them, they start to think I might have some strange obsession. Many times I might pretend to forget things, just to avoid this. Other times I pretend to forget to save them embarrassment, or myself difficulty over some lie or deception.

    With myself it causes problems when trying to get past traumatic or emotional events. The feelings never dull, and if I can’t avoid thinking about them, I fall straight back into whatever mode I was in at the time. Sometimes this feels more like I have a disability rather than a properly functioning brain.

    The next problem is that the memories are not necessarily accurate, as they can only reflect what I felt and knew at the time. Trying to wedge new information into past memories, or overlay a new experience doesn’t seem to work very well. Each memory seems to be a discrete event, though linked to others, often with conflicting details, and the one with the strongest emotion becomes dominant, regardless of whether it’s outdated by newer.

    I hate it sometimes. Other times I would not want to be without it. It makes some seemingly simple tasks difficult and complex, while simplifying so many others.

  • Assumptions

    So once again it turns out I’m completely wrong, and living in some alt.universe without trail of bread crumbs leading home. I probably should be lobotomized.

  • Alternatives

    There is always more than one answer to any problem; so I’ve heard anyway. Maybe I can find a better one.

  • Disconnection

    The conclusion is fairly inescapable now. Even I can see it, still somewhat unwillingly, but rationally I have known it for some time. How I managed to do this again, create my own little fairy tale and begin to believe, I really don’t quite fully understand. I could see it was going to happen again, I could see the signs that I now know very well. I could see the pattern set as my neurochemistry asserted its power over my body. I had no control over it, I didn’t want to control it, I wanted to believe it. This time I wanted to believe so so much. I still want to believe.

    I live so much of my life in my own head. Lives really, I’ve been everywhere and done everything, I just close my eyes. It’s far too easy, too seductive, and the overlap into reality can become extremely blurred. It’s not that I can’t tell the difference, it seems to be that it just becomes so immersive, the emotion becomes so strong, it bleeds through into the real world. I can separate the events in the real world from imagined, but the emotions become one, and the chemical result overcomes any logic.

    This time I surprised even myself with how quickly and hard I fell for her. She has occupied my thoughts since the moment I first met her. In the nine odd months since that first meeting, I can’t think of a day where I did not wonder about her, imagining some conversation or moment. So many seemingly significant moments, such synchronicity of events and lives. For a time I was so excited by the possibility of a real love, I could barely contain myself from one moment to the next. In the sad disappointment I feel now, it’s difficult to take myself back there now. I’ve spent so many months now trying so hard to suppress this raw need for the beautiful life I had seen. It truly did take my breath away, this imaginary life, it was so complete.

    Even now, with the possibility seemingly more distant than ever, I struggle to contain this fantasy world. My mind rushes off on a dozen tangents, threads of images masquerading as memories. I’ve seen us working together, creating things, building things, things of beauty, of practicality, doing everything, doing nothing, travelling, staying home, happiness, sadness, talking, quiet companionship, children, family, growing old. Everything. It’s disorienting. And it’s has barely any relation to reality.

    Writing this has brought such a surge of thought and emotion, I can’t really direct it into a coherent form. I can only write a few words before I become lost again, my sentences becoming garbled as I miss typing whole trains of thought, as my brain bounces from one image to the next. It has taken me hours just to write this short missive. I want to keep writing, with so much still I want to get out. It’s just so hard to arrange these thoughts into a readable form, as they are concepts and feelings I have been trying to crush and suppress for a subjective eternity.

    I really wish I could talk to her about this, to help me understand why I can think these things, and to accept that she doesn’t. I can’t though, not through fear or inability, but because it feels so selfish. I can’t impose such a weight on her, it’s not her fault and it’s not her responsibility to resolve it. To place this extra burden on top of her current load is just something I could never do. The irony there is, perhaps if she did not have such heavy recent baggage, I’d like to think things might have been different. I just don’t know, and likely never will. She knows though, and it’s like the proverbial elephant in the room at times, when we catch up on the odd occasion.

    There are nice moments though, when the elephant seems to disappear, and we talk like real friends, but he always comes back, and we put up our walls again. It’s strange, and I don’t understand it, why she keeps me at arms length. Not allowed any closer, but seemingly not allowed to leave either. Just wait over there. It’s confusing, and I can’t tell if it’s real or imagined, as I no longer trust my judgement with any thought regarding her. I seem to be wrong a lot. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t relax much when she’s around, because I can see her awareness of me, I know she’s wondering about the elephant, and she knows I am too. I sometimes become so distracted in thought, I can’t process our conversations. Especially when saying hello or goodbye it seems. I often can barely make a coherent greeting, or remember what she said in return.

    She is such a beautiful, sweet, compassionate, intelligent girl. To me there seem to be so many different levels we can connect on, so many shared interests, so many new things about her that interest me, so many talents she has I would love to see and help evolve, so much beautiful potential to come. And she would make such a fantastic mother. Yet she doesn’t seem to see any of this connection I can feel so clearly. I would throw everything away for that. It’s almost like there is a one way mirror between us.

    And so after this rambling, what is the inescapable conclusion alluded too in the first paragraph? The conclusion is that I can’t continue the way I have been. I can’t continue to surpress these emotions, while at the same time holding the hope of her changing her mind. If I knew she wanted me to wait, I would gladly, but I don’t know this. I can’t continue giving weight to my wishful thinking any more, my brain just seems broken in this regard, I have to rely on the only direct information I have from her. That was no thanks.

    So this means what? Sadly I think it means disconnection. I have to stay away. I don’t really want to, I’m not sure I can, as I have tried before, but how else can I escape this infinite loop I’ve created? I can’t even pretend that possibly maybe in the future some time, as that just leads me back to the start…