I have watched stories about elderly people getting dementia or Alzheimer’s disease – it’s kind of heart-wrenching when they forget all the good memories they had, when they forget all the people they loved, and when they cannot do the things they used to do when they were young.
I am afraid of having to experience it – I can’t imagine not knowing all the good things and good people I encountered in my whole life. As young as I am, others deem me as one of the most forgetful people that they know. Forgetfulness has always been in my blood –
“Where’s your key?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Who is he?”
and all I can tell them is, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything about what you’re saying.” Or “What’s the question again?” Or
“I forgot where did I place it.”
It hurts me to see that sudden pain that clouds their eyes when I say these words. They assume that I don’t care about all they said and did for me.
Don’t get me wrong – I remember stuff.
I also remember searching about why I am like this and according to my research, forgetfulness in your 20s indicates that you have been experiencing emotional discord – stress, depression, and sleep deprivation – from these, we get unfocused and distracted, failing to summon memories that have passed.
For sure I’m not the only one having this problem and I’m quite certain that I am not as forgetful as they think I am because I remember things –
like what you wore on that evening when I first said “Bye!” to you and how you smiled and waved at me enthusiastically; like how my name sounds so beautiful when it comes from you, or how our eyes meet from time to time for no apparent reason or that time when our hands almost touched when we bumped into each other on that room’s door.
I also remember the butterflies I feel each time I feel your gaze at me, the fast thumping of my heart whenever I feel you near, and the incomparable joy that I feel when we stay up late at night.
See? I remember things –
I remember all that matters to me.
I remember your birthday. I remember your childhood memories, your fears and your desires, even the sexual.
So they can’t tell me that I have a neurological problem because
you keep me sane.
You become the lighthouse that shows me the way whenever I feel lost in my thoughts – just thinking of you calms my unnerving anxiety. You are the cure that I need when panic fills my wandering mind whenever I fail to remember things.
You – you’re the reason why I believe that there’s nothing wrong with my memory and you’re the one that keeps me relaxed when angst creeps all through me.