Some people think our memories
our memories make everything worthwhile
but my memories
my memories made me who I am today
they are the foundation of my darkness
they keep me under this imaginary anesthesia
that eats at my heart
and drowns me with pills
pills that never seem to help
everything fades away in time
even the good memories lose their sparkle
and begin to rust, to tarnish
and they are thrown away
or pushed back into a dark corner
so as to make room for new memories
are the new memories better than the old?
or do people tend to lose interest
interest in something once loved
once beautiful?
or is it like a drug
you become used to such a substance
that it isnt as glamorous as it once were
so you have two options
you take more in
or you forget, move on
and then later
stumble across something
something written or drawn
that brings back that old memory
that old drug
or friend
that you had forgotten
so you draw
and you write more
only to make new memories
or to try and forget again
but it doesnt seem old anymore
it doesnt seem useless
you are no longer tolerant
so you go back
you reminesce
and you remember that once joyous time
those few occasions you were once happy..
or were you?

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