Zoom.

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.