memories

One forgot, one forgot. What hold had one on the past? The present moment was a little travelling in darkness.

One minute you are here and the next moment you are some place else, some time a long ago. That is the thing about your mind. Memories. Everything still exists in the folds of your brain; you may try to forget or honestly believe that you have forgotten but nothing is ever erased. Every memory is registered, good or bad does not matter. Sometimes you bring some out on purpose, sometimes some memory jumps at you on its own, shocking you, shaking you, making you realize how far you have come and at the same time proving to you that you can never really go far enough.

The past, rich with it's pains and joys, shuffles before me, relieving the weary dullness of endless days. I rejoice; I agonize.

For as soon as we have used an opportunity and have actualized a potential meaning, we have done so once and for all. We have rescued it into the past/.../, wherein nothing is irretrievably lost, but rather, on the contrary, everything is irrevocably stored and treasured.

It is possible to construct a history which is logically consistent. It cannot be said to be true; simply that it can be sustained without contradiction. Under a given set of experimental conditions, a finite number of possible histories can be recreated using Griffiths__ method; these are called Griffiths__ Consistent Histories. In these, the world behaves as though composed of separate objects, each having fixed, intrinsic properties. However, the number of consistent histories that can be created from a single set of data is generally greater than one. As a being you are self-aware, and this consciousness allows you to hypothesize that the story you__e created from a given set of memories is a consistent history, justified by a single narrative voice. As a unique individual, having existed for a particular period and been subjected to an ontology of objects and properties, you can assert this with absolute certainty, and so automatically assume that it is a Griffiths__ history. You make this hypothesis about real life, rather than about the domain of dreams.

Time laughs in the distance as I cling to the belief memories of you will fade.

The past is no good if you can't learn from it; therefore, no sense in dwelling on it.

Your brain activates a magnificent system to store memories as reference points for you to learn from... not to create a past for you to be stuck in.

Therefore, the places in which we have experienced daydreaming reconstitute themselves in a new daydream, and it is because our memories of former dwelling-places are relived as day-dreams that these dwelling-places of the past remain in us for all time.

Also the air: the air is full of sighs and cries. These are never lost: if you listen carefully, with a sympathetic ear, you can hear them echoing forever within the second sphere.

The past is a tricky thing. Sometimes it's etched in stone. And other times, it's rendered in soft memories. But if you meddle too long in deep, dark things... Who knows what monsters you'll awaken?

I and the girl in the picture have ceased to be the same person. I am her outcome, the result of the life she once lived headlong; whereas she, if she can be said to exist at all, is composed only of what I remember. I have the better view - I can see her clearly, most of the time. But even if she knew enough to look, she can't see me at all.

He remembers how someone _ he forgets who _ once said in a sarcastic tone, __sn__ she just Little Miss Sweetness and Light?_ _ and it was a statement that put him off proposing. It made him seriously reassess his options. He didn__ want to be with someone others saw as overly-moral because he has flaws, he has weaknesses. How would his mistakes compare to her virtuousness? She used to dislike the competitiveness at work, the way she claimed she could never really make friends with anyone because everything was always so fake and cut-throat and he used to berate her for it, used to tell her to accept it, to realise the truth about life and relationships _ but she wouldn__ take it. She was always thinking too hard about everything, always questioning her motives. Surely, if he__ married her, she__ have started questioning his.

The past only has power over you when it's forgotten... ignored or repressed.

It's painful when the phantom of the past keeps on lingering you even you wanted to move on.

Time is not an enemy as such, but a missing person, sending cryptic postcards from the past.

Nearly two years of dates. Still no question. Her mother and father want to set a proper date. Still no question. Her friends keep asking, when, Natasha? When? But she still hasn__ been asked The Question. It__ enjoyable to be the one with all the secrets, but in her honest mind _ the hidden part that__ always sleeping _ the secrets he keeps about when and if give her a feeling inside she__ never really understood completely _ a sensation she had as a child when she got to the end of a fairytale where never-ending love and happiness were all but expected and wondered whether there might be_. one last page.

You can hide memories, suppress them, but you can__ erase the history that produced them