My memory is shit.

I say that often. I don't think I fully believe it, though.

I think I would be able to remember more of my past, if I wanted to.

But that's just it, I don't want to.

I want to forget it.

Because I'm scared of it.

I'm scared of what I'll find, I'm scared of finding happiness in my past.

If my past was happy, then what the fuck does that make the present?

I can't say that particularly enjoy anything of the present, so to find any degree of positivity,

to find anything worth of envy, I'd feel like shit.

I don't want that.

On a less affective aspect of memory, of the boring episodic tasks that I can't remember,

like geography and social interactions, I tend to forget them because they are just that-

unimportant episodes.

If I tried to attribute a degree of meaning, if I became emotionally or mentally invested in keeping

that memory those memories alive, that would lend itself to being recollectable in the present.

But attributing meaning takes energy, and it takes creation of meaning.

To create meaning means to invest part of yourself in that which you are afflicting,

and in doing so, I feel I lessen myself. I make myself smaller.

I don't want that. I don't like that idea. I don't want to give up what I am to create meaning.

But what does that leave me with? What am I without meaning? I feel like I maintain humanity in these actions,

but in reality I am doing just the opposite.

I am running from humanity.