Recycled Memories

“To be in the right set of memories or within the right pattern of thoughts, is- sometimes- like trying hard to conquer a world full of monsters, alone, a world that even if you conquered it won’t leave you sane. It won’t. whenever you are about to be able. It starts all over again.” 

Not being able to use the double-you before the e- he said to me-or not to belong to the you before the s, is like a free fall to a very be-low land, that no one ever, to, has arrived. Down there-he claims- his breath is no longer what keeps him alive, what it does-according to the story of his- is a brand new trick of the mind; Recycling of memories. Although it started out of a heart being ill, it is what he does now, and he does it well. He continues: “I sometimes cannot leave my bed in the morning- no I am not physically crippled- it feels as if my body weight has tripled, or may be as if my mind is cuffed to my pillow, to where it used to rest next to her presence. Every morning I need to unlock a puzzle of possibilities, of various outcomes, to bring an emotional giant to sleep, so I am able, out of bed, to walk. I need to learn how to talk, every morning, again. 

Recycling memories started in a factory I’ve recently built in my mind, I’ve had to do that, so every morning my senses can come back to me, and only then, I am able to function. As the day grows old, I, sometimes, lose my senses again, in my silence that comes passing by like an electrical fast train. It’s all starting again.

What I do to avoid the questions pumped by my heart, through my veins, and into my mind, surpasses the amount of energy needed to provide love to the whole world all at once. When my heart thinks “us” I find my mind, voluntarily, turning its new factory on. I close my eyes, go back in time, pick a few memories of us and rearrange them, yes I do. I just choose to live them again, exactly how I wanted them to be-vanilla plain.

At times this makes me lighter, even for a few seconds, and brighter. It has to be for a few seconds, because at the very beginning, when I was learning my new trick, I used to feel lighter for a day or so, it was not that-that was because some pieces of me have disappeared, left in search of her. Now I know, I admit my mistakes, let’s restructure it again, let’s rename the pain, or may be let’s do it all over again. 

I am no longer a friend with my tear,  not because of an invisible strength has come to appear, its because I am no longer crying the fact that I miss her, I am no longer able to miss her..because I know this time is real.…my silence is twisted,  unstable, and sanity comes and goes like the foam in the upper quarter of a glass of beer. Oh dear, it’s happening all again.
I look for her everywhere, in our past, in my present, here and there.  In a hopeful promise, between the clouds, in feeling the warmth of early morning’s golden rays, I look for her in some bills of my past, in my little notes, in my own veins…those which decided to last, not for me to live, but for her presence to stay in me…our past..I keep looking for her again and again.

I keep clinging onto “us”, deceivingly, it feels like a plus. Walking away, from her,  was more painful than peeling my own skin off, and hurtful as much. Awkwardness; is the sensation of any other potential touch. I miss her so much, and my only hope, one day, she comes back, to me, again.” 
I didn’t know what to say to him, at first, then I searched back in my own memories, I tried to recycle some-and found my mouth producing some few words: You should start planting positive thoughts in so many pots across the garden of your mind, throw seeds of hope and acceptance everywhere you go. Do you mind?
“I don’t know” he trembles, I continue: 
In your thoughts, pray for her and pray for you-you should really do. In every low point in my life, or when I am knocked down with a sort of loss; I keep reminding myself over and over again, with a quote of some sort-I read once while I was in pain- one’s loss could be a brand new gain.

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