The haze surrounding the past is clouding my senses


I don’t have any recollection of this.

I go on and on, waiting for that ‘aha’ look to appear on their faces, but no bells are ringing in their minds. Their confused looks have stayed consistent through my monologue and regret is ever present in the shade of my face. They don’t remember, and I’ve wasted everyone’s time with my made-up memories that everyone else has forgotten.

I used to have a great memory. My mind was a vast archive of every interaction I’d had, with enough room for useless equations and what I ate for dinner a week ago. Lately, I’ve felt my knowledge slipping away as I second-guess myself on my closest friends’ birthdays and repeatedly forget to respond to texts.

I never even had to use a planner until this year. I simply remembered every assignment, every test, and every project that came my way. Back then, we were provided with planners to build good habits, but they remained unutilized, just another notebook in my backpack.

I remember my dreams far less than I used to. When I do remember them, they’re usually nightmares. I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of dreams. What sort of screwed-up part of my brain decides to make me vividly visualize scenarios of myself in danger? Memories feel more like distant dreams rather than recent remembrances. 

Blissful reminiscence is sacrificed for my ever-lengthening mental to-do list.

I remember real things too, of course. I remember inside jokes from years ago; occasionally, one will drift into my mind, and I’ll suddenly be flooded with memories of laughter and exhilaration. Then, I’ll be overtaken by melancholy because I had to first forget such joy to remember it. It’s a bittersweet endeavor. Nonetheless, it’s comforting to know that there’ve been too many jokes to count.

I don’t enjoy feeling senile. I’m losing my sense of reality and time. The dense cloud of dust and darkness enclosing what were my favorite memories is creeping into recent affairs. I can’t remember that I need to charge my laptop. I can’t remember that I have a Spanish test on Thursday. I can’t remember to drink water. Even the most basic things that should be routine by now don’t seem to stick. On top of all of that, I’m supposed to remember a joke that made me laugh last week? I’m supposed to remember a conversation that made me smile? I can’t take any more information into my throbbing brain; there’s no room for extra sources of happiness. Blissful reminiscence is sacrificed for my ever-lengthening mental to-do list.

I’m so focused on the future that the past is being left behind and not in a good way. In a month, I’ll have forgotten all about everything that’s bringing me joy in the present. I’m living through my future history, attempting to collect fragments of my feelings before they’re frozen in time.