Memories

About My Memories

My life has never been how I would have envisioned it to be. How anyone would wish to live. One heartbreaking memory after another. A few cheerful ones fill the spaces between them. How I would love to say those good memories compensate for all the bad. How I would love to say that I have looked past all the bad. That now I only have memories I would be glad to share.

I would tell you about how I went to an amusement park with my mother when I was only six years old. How we went on a ride and how even though I felt sick to my stomach afterwards I still had a lot of fun that day. I would tell you about the day my father gifted me with what was to become my favorite movie and an important part of my life many years ago.

I would tell you about the boy who was to become my first true love, how he always put a smile on my face and how he made every day of my life a good one.

I would tell you all that.

What I wouldn’t tell you is what a mess my mother’s life was back then. How much she struggled.

I wouldn’t tell you about how my father had abandoned me. How he was never there. I wouldn’t tell you how badly that boy hurt me in ignorance. How without him my world fell apart.

All these I would keep from you. They would never see the light of day. The way I am now, in my current state of mind, I might not tell you about my memories. Neither the bad nor the good.