Egotistical or ignorant... I can't say.
I do wish that others think fondly of memories created with me-- that when they piece the individual bits together, it assembles into something of beauty. Cohesive or fragmented. at least worthy of being remembered for that moment in time. When a familiar song that you haven't heard for so long comes on, a violent storm of emotions hits you. For a couple of seconds, there is confusion and uncertainty as to why you feel that way. You sit there stunned because your brain hasn't quite processed logic or reason. Frozen, you are a blank slate splashed with instincts and physical responses. I hope that it's that if I somehow have the privilege of being the reason for that short moment of bewilderment... that it's a good one.
I've had the good fortune of having so many good memories that I can call my own, bestowed upon me by the people who I have had the pleasure of knowing. Some are fading and others stored away in some hard-to-access areas of my brain, but each shape the way I perceive the world. It bothers me that there are so many things I can't remember even though I know they happened (not in terms of alcohol, because that grief is more often than not self-inflicted.) It's strange because at one time it was the present. It's even more troublesome that some still hold me hostage emotionally even though I can't even get everything straight.
I have a soft spot for Hollywood because there's narrative closure at the end of every movie. I've been reminded from my experiences and those of others that this isn't how life works. I hate that French expressionists were right. All you can hold onto when the lights come on are the feelings elicited. And even that's being a little generous. You have to be able to hold onto them. I hope that the ones you held onto were the good pieces of us.
