fuknukl

Homemade. Spicy. Indescribable, truely. Combine with a freerange omelette and cracked black pepper. Good gods. Yes.

You’re still there you know. I still sometimes fall asleep wondering; I still wake sometimes wishing. Random momentary triggered memories. A face passing in a sea of many.

Slowly, I’ve tried to wall up all memory, excised each connection one by one. For the longest time I’ve crushed every thought with such emotional violence that the world would seem to ripple around me at the impact. And yet you remained.

Perhaps though, it’s not you. Perhaps it’s just another of Mnemosyne’s japes, wearing your aspect. I can no longer tell. She does love a good joke.

It seems such a simple idea, to trust. So simple a concept. But this life is built on it. Without it, you have nothing.

To live without is such anathema to me. And to have it broken time again gives me such an ache. But I cannot do without, it is everything, so I continue.

The failures make me sad for a time, I wonder at why some act as they do, closed to the best part of the world. But the successes, they make me feel I was placed on the right planet after all. That makes me smile.

It can’t be described here. The emotive responses are just not transcribable through words alone. You would need to hear the voice, and see the expression to even grasp a small part of the synaptic explosions created. Or do it yourself.

I’ve always thought that as I grew older I’d mellow, but no, now I just know I can get away with it. Perhaps I’m smarter about it, at least I seem to pick up fewer injuries, but the urge is still overwhelming. Everything is still reduced to that instant.

I do not recommend such an existence. Effective as it is at passing time, the issues which initiated the condition will remain in full upon resumption of regular, living human like activities.

I read the numbers, and know what they denote, but not what they signify. Am I to never understand? No answer.

Everything is so subjective. Trying to judge another’s perspective based on your own observations and experiences. Trying to get across your own variation of the world, which doesn’t quite match another’s, and to which the other does not subscribe. So many people can’t seem to grasp subjectivity. Often it seems a wilful act, good old cognitive dissonance again. I think, therefore I am correct.

Trying to impose your ideas on another seems such a selfish, almost violent act. And as with all violence, it is born in fear. A fearful man may be an angry man, but an angry man is always fearful. The trick is to find the source of the fear, and dilute it, then the anger recedes. To spread understanding, not to promulgate one idea. But you can’t do this without awareness of subjectivity. I can’t see their perspective, so I can’t understand them, so I am afraid.

I often wonder at how things turn can turn on a moment. Often simple things, happen stance, one thing seen or heard, another not. A whole life can turn about face though one sheer coincidence and the decisions that follow. I wonder at how much of a choice there really is in peoples decisions, at the determinism that is mostly unseen. The appearance of choices that really are no such thing. I wonder at how my life was changed drastically through simple decisions to do or follow up one thing, and not to follow another.

Where would I be but for those moments? Could I have done other than I have? I don’t really know, but I know I dream of a different life lead, a life that I might have been happy and proud of. To start again this late in life, though I don’t feel or look old, feels strange, almost surreal. I wish I knew then what I knew now; so many people have voiced that through human history in one form or another. I’m still getting used to this current life, and I’ve made a few false starts, but I’m improving. There is so much left to do. The past is what it is.

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.

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.

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