Memory

All alone in the moonlighttt~~~...

Nope, that's not what I'm talking about blog-ry. Memory, such a b*tch, our excellent little subjective representation of personal realities. Meaning it's so unreliable, someone please make me into robocop with a 100 TB HDD, thanks.

When I think of her, the good times, the fun times, the excellent times where she is without fault and issue comes to mind, my little *ing fairy which I gave up. Then I have to FORCE myself to remember the reasons why I made the choice in the first place, and it always isn't easy... It never is...

Sigh memory, why do you do this to me? Granted such a mechanism is extremely useful in preserving basic sanity, cause if I can remember exactly how my canoeing trainings and ninja BMT trainings went, I would probably be a bitter bitter man on anti-depressants. But still, not this way... I need a object reality to focus on when my emotions are swaying round the charts, if only you could help me blog-ry.

Oh well, as I always believe, there are many reasons humans can't be trusted, and memory is one of the natural causes. Back to mugging.

Inscribed 1/11/10