Sometimes I just want to sit back and remember things. What's sad is when you can't remember. Sometimes I just want to bask in the warmth of my memories and pretend I'm still there. What happens when I forget? What happens when all that's left is a glimmer of a feeling or a picture of a face? What happens when you can't even reemer the faces...?
That's why I keep a journal. Pictures and notes and all those fun things; trinkets from plays or little things that are garbage to others but help you remember; I tape those in, too. And then I get to read what I wrote back then, laugh at myself a little, maybe feel sad about things past... but I remember them! I can bask in the memory, the sights and the sounds replaed in my mind, the lessons I learned. And then I can go on, and remember to love where I am, too... because later, I'll want to read about all the happy times in the multiple books of the story of my life.
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