A recent blog post from a friend brought this to mind. I always think on things in my past and it feels like I’m going through someone else’s attic and looking at their treasure and not my own. I’m not saying I don’t feel any connection to my past but it has been boxed up and put away.

 I’ve had some struggles in my life. I’m sure some have struggled more and some less than I but they are my burdens none the less. But when I think back on my life. When I remember things from childhood, high school, college, and beyond it almost feels as though I’m looking through a glass. Like watching reruns of Seinfeld. I feel empathy for this past version of me but at the same time I feel disconnected. If memories are what make us who we are, does that make me a disconnected person? Do I exist only at this point in time?

 There are certain memories that I do have the I feel like they are put into a box and kept in the far back part of storage. Things I’d rather not remember and when those are unleashed it feels like a bomb goes off and I remember every bad thing that has ever happened to me in great detail. But the same isn’t true of the good memories. When something triggers a good memory it fizzles out and that’s the end of it. Usually hazy and less than spectacular.

I don’t really have a point to all this but I figured I would share it with you all.  A little bit of what goes on in my brain…



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