cycle
Sometimes I worry that memories are like antique matchsticks. You alight them in your mind, burn through the sulfur, experience the smell, the sound, the vivid flare of light.. and in seconds it's gone. Everytime you go back to it there's less and less to burn, until the fire gets down to your fingers, and all you remember is that it was a memory.
Especially those ones you dig up after years or even decades, the ones that have no pictures or artifacts to attatch themselves in the present and hold to your life.
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eccothekitten) wrote,
indifferent
