Thursday, May 12, 2011


They are a tricky thing; memories. You hold on to them like a fainting scent of a passing stranger. You pray that eventually they will be revivied and with this they will revive all the people and places they took part in. You remember them in the darkest of hours only to get a compensation that there is still hope for a happy ending somewhere down the horizon. They slip through your hand, though, like sea foams, cleansing everything on their way and leaving an impecable void. Memories are made of our dreams and fears. They hold, within their fold, the colors of childhood, the wishes of adolensence and the almost mature emotions of youth. You crave memories as if you live on them. In years to come, you remember a certain day, a certain time, a dried rose left on printed inc, a smiling face, a fading kiss, a warm hug and a flattering word from a loved one. You cling on to them hoping that the kiss will wet your cheeks once again, that these arms will gently find their way around you once more and this rose will grow into full blossom before you.

They are a tricky thing; memories. Even the sad ones, you cling on to them. You remember and relive them to feel a certain blessing or to remind yourself of how harsh life can get. You remember your long-gone loved ones. You remember your first heart break. You remember your first wave goodbye to someone whose memory's leaving shadow you'll still see for days to come. You remember your foolishness around your first crush. You remember the laughs you had with the friends you no longer can call your own. You remember the losses as much as the gains and you sigh. You sigh, thinking that rememberance is a torture now. But you still remember. The first touch of a hand, the first eye-lock and the last tearful words.

They are a tircky thing; memories. They remind you of whom you lost, of what you lost, of how you lost them. They remain there to tell you what you did right and what you could have done much better. When you should have stepped up for something/someone and when you should have left. To whom you should have said "I love you" whom you should have bid goodbye.

At the end of it all, memories are all you got. Memories are all you'll wish for. Memories are all you can touch, hold, smell and bestow kisses on. Just memories. And memories do not tolerate regrets.


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