....woke up from the heavy sound of the pouring rain at 3 am this morning. Couldn’t go back to sleep, so ended up doing something I haven’t done for a while- read through old journals and diaries. I have over ten of them in the span of four years. Funny. I always thought writing in journals was so cliché- typical girl confessing to a notebook. But as silly as I thought it seemed, I did so anyway… I don’t regret staying up late at night just so I can finish telling dear diary about how my day went.

Reading over them allowed me this sense of what I call self-recognition. I got to know the real me (at the time I wrote in my diary)- who I was then, what I believed in, where I stood, how I dealt with my usual day to day dilemmas. You know, girl meets world… that kind stuff. Memories could be captured in tons of ways- scrapbooks, journals, letters, video, voice recording, etc…I stuck to pen and paper.

Then it hit me. Memory is strange. It’s like, part movie…part dream. You don’t know if what you remember is the essential part…or something else entirely.

Well, at least that’s how I see it. as I read through the piles of my old notebooks and flower-designed diaries, I couldn’t help but notice the major alteration of the girl that wrote in them in a matter of several years. And the odd thing is…I don’t even remember half of what I wrote about. That’s the part about memories being part movie…when you watch a movie for the first time, everything you see is a surprise…every scene is unexpected and you find yourself reacting in a variety of emotions toward what you just witnessed. You laugh when something hilarious happens… you cry when something sad happens. It kinda stay in your head for a while, because the movie is so unforgettable. But then, later you don’t really remember much about the movie anymore because you see other much more interesting movies that make you laugh harder and cry harder, thus overlapping the previous movie you just saw, making you remember it less and less with each passing day, until the memory of it totally disappear. Then again, years later, one day… you come across this same movie. you watch it, and you find yourself laughing and crying at the same exact scenes you did years ago. only during those moments you get to grasp the emotions that were still there within you, no matter how unaware you were of it… the same goes with memories. There are so many memories a person can make in a lifetime, and very few are remembered. But if you get to witness it again… through film, papers, the likes… you’ll be able to relive it just like watching an old movie.
The sad part about memories? It’s the only thing you can hold to in order to remind yourself that yes, LIFE is worth living.



Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose… A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen… Every man's memory is his private literature… Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us… The past is never dead, it is not even past.


Memories


The past is like a dream
troubled a tranquil nights
from deep imagination
from all the things happened
buried in years
that never goes back again
but memories still remain


You've given me memories that i'll treasure...always...