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Showing posts from November, 2014

Surely, nostalgia is a form of dementia?

I love remembering. So often, I get so caught up in the past that the present becomes drab and the future futile. I've even read pages of my journals argued with the author of these biographical memoirs from years gone by that whoever the crazy woman was who supposedly documented my youth got it wrong – because the present I did NOT remember things that way. The party was far more fun and lasted far longer than only two hours. The past love was far more perfect and meaningful and I would never have found him irritating. The friendships far less brutal; we never backstabbed or lied to one another. The hurts of breakups were far deeper and I would never have kissed someone else that same night, or accepted an invitation to a date that same day. One does so often tend to forget the parts that seem, at the time, insignificant. One also forgets the parts that make it less of a story. Just last week I sat waiting for a friend in a coffee shop. Two ladies, a little younger than me, obviou