website/content/blog/2018-07-08-clawmarks-on-my-memories.markdown

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layout	title	date	categories
post	Clawmarks on my memories	2018-07-08	life memory me

{{< image url="/img/1*QiRpt7tqra3moEbFQwtsnA.jpeg" caption="Photo by Andy Tootell on Unsplash" >}}

One of the reasons I’m so damn good at living for the present is that I can’t remember the past.

The instant a moment is gone it blurs, out of focus. Then it fades into the blackness. I can’t remember the mundane — what I had for lunch the other day, what movies I watched last week. Nor can I remember the special — the first kiss, the last heartbreak. It’s all gone.

Faded out.

I love it, and I hate it. I hate it, and I love it.

It’s true that I can never be satisfied [without adrenaline]({{< ref "/blog/2018-07-07-chasing-the-edge" >}} "Chasing The Edge"). But that isn’t the whole picture. Satisfaction is underpinned by memory. I cannot be satisfied in what I have done when I cannot remember it.

I am cursed to wander — to always chase more. Adrenaline, and everything else. I cannot learn from a past that is no longer mine. I cannot remember fondly a laugh shared. I cannot relive the pain of a past heartbreak.

I cannot remember.

No matter how hard I try to hold, the memories always slip away. No matter how fiercely I claw. I have to live for the here and now, because otherwise I ain’t got shit.

I cannot remember.

I love it.

I hate it.