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drowning in the details (or lack thereof)

I’m really afraid of forgetting things that no longer exist.

I’m not really sure when it started. but I can recall, even quite some time ago, physically writhing when I tried to recall our old house. navigating the hallways, entering the different rooms, trying to recall the furniture layout… and when I walked into a memory gap, I couldn’t handle it. I’d either just give up or struggle some more, trying to desperately grasp onto little strands of the past as they slipped through my fingers, like a helium balloon from an inattentive child’s grip.

it’s even stranger when I struggle to recall people and their interactional details — the sound of their voice, the default expression on their face. I know my uncle used to smoke, and I know that’s the biggest reason why he passed away early. but I don’t remember him smelling like cigarette smoke; I only remember his ash-colored mustache, and sometimes my mind struggles to reconcile what it vividly remembers with what it can only infer. I’m afraid of filling in the holes with what I assume to be true, but can’t actually verify.

and I can’t help but wonder what’ll end up making the cut, years down the road. what recollections will stay true? which details will I cling to dearly, and which will disappear without me even knowing? what will I remember as better than reality, or worse than actuality?

funny how my brain would rather contemplate the depths of human memory than play with supply and demand curves during finals week