Memory is an interesting thing. It's like photographs (and by that, I mean traditional photographs that are processed and treated in dark rooms. Back in the days when films were used.) The moment it happens, or the moment it's processed, it's always the freshest. The colours are vibrant and the picture is clear. Then as time passes, the colours begin to fade, the details begin to blur, and the picture becomes fuzzy. Memory is like that too.
Recent events have caused me to really start to wonder about my need of hoarding objects. I get emotionally attached to objects and I seldom throw things out. A family member recently asked me for some iPhone 4 screen protectors, as she knows I have a lot stored somewhere. As to why I would store these items somewhere is beyond my understanding. Due to this sudden need of screen protectors, I had to go on a hunt for those little tiny things. Oh boy was that a disaster.
Before we continue, let's just say I am really bad with hoarding. Due to circumstances, I have four rooms. Two of which I have beds in, then the other two I simply use as storage and occasionally study. I also have a wardrobe that isn't for clothes, but for boxes of my belongings. I have boxes and boxes of clothes that I don't know if I'll ever wear again.
I quickly opened the wardrobe and had to go through a lot of those boxes. It's not that I don't know I possess certain things, but it's that I've forgotten. As I was going through these boxes, memories began to come back. Every item that I look through has a story to it... I began a trip down memory lane.
Life is a bitch sometimes. You feel like you are going down the right path and the right road, just for life to give you a sudden turn, and everything you know suddenly becomes different. Going through these things brought me back to my earliest memories of my childhood. From the picture perfect life back then, to my adventure in Australia, then to my highschool years of trying to figure out myself (hey, we've all been there), then to my early university years, and until now.
My childhood memories and times in Taiwan are becoming blurred. I remember bits and pieces. I do know for a fact I had a lot of fun and my brother and I were the stars of our family and at that moment in time, we had just about everything. Even if back then we wanted more, looking back now as an adult, I know we had everything we could have ever wanted. Then came our settlement in Australia, or rather the hastened settlement due to my stubbornness.
Life changed. Drastically. I began to take more responsibility. I began to darken. I began to sink. I slowly changed. For the better? Maybe. For the worse? Maybe too.
It's never easy to be thrown out of your comfort zone. For someone who's always had four limbs, if you take one limb away from them, they need time to absorb the shock, and digest the change. For someone who's always had a happy family with two parents, suddenly you have the parents breaking up, the kid will need to adjust too. For someone who's never had to work to get money, it's never easy for adjust when they're borderline bankrupt and need to support themselves. However, we are humans. We are born to adapt to change. We learn to cope with our surroundings.
In these massive piles of objects I possess, there are memories in every single item. I don't want to throw them away, because it means I will forget and lose the memory. But when is too much too much?
I'm only going to keep getting more objects to store, when will the old ones have to go?
I remember the days when love was just pure. Holding hands was everything. A little notebook meant the world.
I remember the days when getting up at 6am was a pain, but life was still perfect.
I remember the days when we all fought hard and made up hard. We thought we knew it all, but we actually only knew so little.
I remember the days when algebra felt like a necessity in life, but now I have not had to find 'x' in years.
I remember the days we laughed, cried and joked in the school grounds that were familiar to us, but now just a distant memory.
I remember our days in the foreign land where we tried to navigate through the different culture.
I don't want to forget. I don't want any of these memories to fade.
But just like photographs, they will fade one day... Unless you try to reproduce them.
Where is the innocence?
Where is the pureness?
-Daniel
