Maybe it's just another periodic cycle of existentialism kicking its way into my brain, but I have an uncontrollable desire to get rid of all of my possessions. Whilst trying to clean my former room, the room that was turned into a storage shed while away at college, I realized what a huge amount of meaningless memories I have acquired. It depresses me to know that a memory could ever be pointless, or worse wasted, but I think it is true. I used to hold onto everything, so afraid that I would forget some minute detail that would later appear in one of my many novels... funny how I always imagined myself a novelist. Funny how I imagined these memories would later have a use. Sad how I had to grow up and face reality... But I think memories must be released. Released to where?.. A Goodwill store, I guess. I just know that I cannot bare to have them reside in my room.

Do I really need you Mr. Mouse on a rocking horse? If I do get rid of you, I will surely forget about the man that gave you to me and the night you made me so happy. It was the man with the trains, a friend of my grandmother maybe. You were by one of those trains, sitting there... happy. I remember that he gave you to me. I remember his wife had a dozen Christmas trees around the house, each with a gorgeous angel on top. I remember the man died a few years later. I don't remember his name or how he died. I just remember I kept you because I couldn't possibly part with a gift from a dead man... But you are just space... Is that space worth a memory of trains? If I keep you, this debate will continue until next year. How many years will it take for you to disappear, like that man. Is it evil for me to wish you gone?

There are so many things in this cavern of a room. It's a rather small room, but there are so many memories inside. My brain can't take it sometimes, realizing how much I remember, aching for how much I remember with only a hazy recollection, and curious about what has been completely forgotten.

I hope there is a God of Forgotten Memories to catch these tiny tragedies that I am foolishly dumping onto another.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.