Not again! I lost it. It had to
have gone somewhere, but where? It’s nowhere to be seen. It’s as if it didn’t
exist in the first place. Not that you’d be able to see it. It only existed in
my mind.
I’m not crazy it was an idea. Not so
clever as to blow minds the way Inception or Fight
Club would. But at least getting it down would give me a little
relief from the stress from school, from friends, or from family. One less
thing to worry about, writing it down so I can move on and work on something
else, then something else after that, then I get handed another thing and
another and another… it never ends. And soon I will be the one handing things
out and someone will be wishing they had all the answers to all my questions.
How do thoughts get lost? What
happened to that synapse? Did it get lost in the rush hour traffic of my head?
Did it take a wrong turn? Does it not have a GPS system? Did it break down on
the highway? Or was it going too fast and got pulled over and impounded?
I’m not sciencey at all, but when I
think about all the ideas and the information I’ve obtained I wonder how it’s
all stored. Like a giant parking structure each car, each synapse, has it’s own
spot. If the car sits there for too long soon you wont be able to turn the key
over, the engine won’t start, the car starts to rust, and eventually it’s of no
use at all even if it started out as something high class like a Lamborghini…
or something.
Sometimes I fear I’m forgetting too
much, too many cars are turning to rust. Too many things I can’t remember: like
what an integral is, how to throw a football, or why I don’t like mushrooms. I
can afford to lose these memories and ideas.
It’s the memories and ideas I don’t
want to loose I worry over. I don’t want to forget the things my aunt told me
the time she called me out of the blue, because she felt like something was wrong.
I don’t want to forget the way the light reflected off the spider’s web and the
mist cast off from the waterfall, creating rainbows every which-a-way. I don’t
want to forget the movement of the crowd when I saw my favorite band with my
two best friends or that I couldn’t speak for half a week afterwards from all
the lyrics I screamed. I don’t want to forget the things I can say that make
people smile, but I do. I do all the time.
Then there are the things I want to forget. The cars I want to turn to
rust. But they get used too often, the memories play too much, too many people
remind me and bring them up. The scratchy feeling of the carpet on my face as I
lay there curled up, my hair sticking to my face stained black from the
eyeliner that I usually never wear, the eyes of my cat staring at my back…
STOP! Actually, let’s not talk about it? Forget I mentioned it.
