of this i am guilty

Memory is no longer a simple memory etched in a mind where it is kept as a one-in-a-kind. Where you colour it and twist it, but it’s all still caught up inside for just you to see. When did we start to feel the pressure to take notes and snapshots to remember a moment that may be better kept as just a moment? Or when did we start to validate our every moments by spreading the word near and far via status updates and published polished posts? It’s engraved in stone when it goes viral, it’s happening, it’s really happening when someone finally ‘likes’ what’s actually happening. Were you here, were you there because I didn’t see you here nor there in the pictures? Did you laugh, did you sigh because I didn’t read about that across the papers? We’re getting so bad at remembering a memory in our old age that if we don’t keep track then it’s lost inside us. If we don’t click and share then perhaps it never happened, they’ll never know it happened. Yet it’s inside us – that’s the point. It’s yours to keep, yours to forget, yours to change you or let it from changing you. Some things are all the sweeter when they’re yours, just yours.ย 

You may also like