[ WP ] All my life I had been fascinated with the memories I can recall that were n't my own .

All my life I had been facinated with the memories I can recall that were n't my own. Sometimes they were mundane, like a flash of a car ride or standing amongst a crowd. 
 Other times, they were darker. They were not sinister, at least, not at first. A wave of sadness from a friend's death, embarassment from a mistake made. What struck me deepest was the anger. A heat like I had never felt boiling inside of me. Soul-splitting anguish followed there after by crushing regret. These memories, emotions, and actions were not my own. I would never be so bold as to say a cross word about anyone. I was content. No, whoever these memories belonged to, they had done something wrong. Something very wrong.
