[ WP ] Every time you remember something , part of it fades until you forget it completely .

`` You ever remember blacking out within a blackout'', laughed Sam. 
 
 `` Dumb question, semantically speaking''. 
 
 `` You have a point. But really, what I ’ m trying to get at is having this vague recollection, this fleeting feeling that at some point during this blacked out experience of mine, my memory collapsed in on itself. A black hole ripping my memory out of my grasp. And I think it was because I did something stupid''. 
 
 `` Such imagery! I really liked the black hole bit'', wheezed Miguel sarcastically. `` Sounds like someone needs some psychoanalysis. Shall I summon Sigmund''? Miguel sprang to his feet and approached Sam. `` Take my seat, brand new couch. Very comfortable'', he said tauntingly as he grabbed Sam ’ s forearm to drag him begrudgingly to his couch. 
 
 `` You ’ re such a motherfucker'', Sam muttered half joking. 
 
 `` Easy there, Eddy. Keep it to one of Freud ’ s theories at a time, eh''? 
 
 Sam chuckled. Miguel was on fire. May as well roll with the punches. `` Alright Mikey, you win. Let ’ s do this. Cokes in the fridge''. 
 
 `` Yikes''. 
 
 `` Not my best work. I ’ m ready when you are capitan''. 
 
 `` Lay down, my brotha. Close your eyes. I want to you imagine all those times you did something embarrassing when you were drunk. And I mean bad, absolute cringe worthy, scream in the shower to forget kind of memories. But not the one last night, don ’ t worry about that one right now. I want you to pick one of them. Focus all of your energy, take a deep breath, and fully enter that memory. Relive it. Revel in the loathsome image of your old self. Don ’ t flinch at parts you don ’ t want to remember. Take a dip in the lake of your depraved decisions. Hate yourself. Debase your ego. And then just let it the fuck go man. Push it away like a finished plate at a highway diner. It means nothing to you anymore, except that it ’ s time to leave and not look back. It ’ s that easy. Accept the true, imperfect image of who you are. Breathe it in, for that is the sacred energy of life. Those who scorn self-doubt, fly. Those who waver, sink. You have a choice. Always remember that you have a choice''. 
 
 This was more serious than envisioned. Both of them have become enveloped in the moment. Martin would be proud. 
 
 You think it ’ s that simple. I can let go, I have before and I will again. I can accept who I was and who I am today. It is not the memories I worry about, even the ones that linger in the dark recesses of my mind. It is the memories that are lost forever, floating somewhere in some dimension. Bursts of thoughts and ideas never cease to turn to vapor. And even that vapor, that very concept of a lost memory, will soon be whisked away into the unwritten and unremembered annals of my existence. A blackout within a blackout is not a reference to alcohol, my friend. It is a reflection upon my very existence. My life itself is a blackout, born without a clue of where I came from. Not physically, but beyond that. Seriously. No one knows why any of this shit is happening. I certainly like that shit is happening, but what this dense ball of spinning matter is doing plumped in the infinitive expanse of our universe is ridiculous. But this to me is beautiful and I don ’ t mind the confusion. What I struggle with is that me living my life is one blackout within a blackout after another. I forget almost everything that ever happened to me in my life. I am being shaped and changed by all of the stimuli and experiences I encounter all the time, but remember only a tiny sliver of them. Those slivers ostensibly validating my self-concept of who I am. But there ’ s got to be more. My life is constantly slipping through the cracks like a rain on a slotted deck. The rain is me, hurtling through time. The wood is my memory, my past self. Rain smacks the wood, the majority ultimately resting on the deck. But some squeaks through right away. That is me. And here I am without so much of a semblance of where I just came from. I think I know. But do I really''. 
 

