Aug 13

 So many things I do and touch now send a shiver of memories floating by - there is little that doesn't have something connected to it. My memory is good enough that it can recall all the details. What this song was connected to. What was happening when this video played. Snapshots of life and people and things. All of them fucking sad at the very least, a recall of a time that has now gone and left me empty.

Some of my friends marvel at my "amazing" memory. I do not have an amazing memory, at least, not like they think. I cannot recall everything about everything. I do not have a photographic memory. Not even slightly. But. I do have an unusual ability to pull things out, word for word conversations 10 years past. I can recall the exact lines of a thousand different films. Punchlines. Vistas. I suppose I have a vivid internal landscape. I always used to be able to imagine worlds in my head to such a degree that I could write down what they smelled like, the feeling on your skin, the horizon, the grains of sand on your fingers. To me, it was easy, in fact, I would get lost in the feel of it. It stopped being stories and became an exploration of sense. Which. Needed trimming, editing. You don't want to hear that. The rule of thumb for story writing, unless it serves a purpose, cut it. But. That experiential lost in another space thing. That's the place my head can be in.

On the upside it lets you live in different worlds. It lets you build places in high fidelity that have never been seen before. On the downside. I think. It makes parts of the real world stick like glue. A facsimile. With an incredible attention to detail. That repeats sad things, over and over and over in your head. Because of the detail. The glint of light from an eye. The pause in breath. The look as you watch in infinite slow motion the soul exit from a pair of eyes and turn to glass.

It is brutal.

I do my very best to just get on with it. But I am crowded in by technicolour ghosts.

I don't really know how to live with it. I just. Fumble along. Continually tripping over landmines of things that trigger a detailed memory. The indifference in a face of someone who is done with you. The lies. The lies they don't think you can see. That they don't know are written across their face. In every little movement of body they take. Every pause. Every tiny twitch. A lie.

I have seen many lies.

I'll snip this here. I went into it. There is no point. People lie. People manipulate. I find it sad. And personally hurtful.

It is what it is.

Hum ho.

Yesterday when I had a better day. Feeling ok.

I get such a strong urge to run away. That familiar thing. I have spoken about before. The enormous urge to just leave it all behind. Disconnect all conversations. All contacts. All of it. Ghost away, dead. And run far away. To an unknown place, where no one knows me, and there are no memories, no ties. And there. Just. Be free. To utterly self destruct.

It is an odd urge. It is recurring. It is very strong. To leave everyone and everything. I think, maybe, I am not sure, there is something in there about justice at best. Vengeance at worst. A tit for tat. A complete removal of myself from the picture in a rage of neglect. Being perhaps unappreciated, you move on away from the complicated layers of neglect and toxicity. I am not sure. It's raw and emotional. Not rational. Not some grand plan to achieve an end. It is an emotional pull without a goal. Perhaps it's not as complicated as all that. Perhaps it's just the urge to run away. Fight or flight. But it is a nihilistic flight. A flight that seeks to cut off every single connection to a former life. But I suppose even that is not unheard of. I am not the only to do that kind of thing. Perhaps this shrinky analysis is the nail on the head -

"At its core, running away is a means to escape our current world—a world that isn't serving us the way we desire"

I can see that. And the brutal cutting off of all contact is like the slamming of the door with a fuck you.

Work today / tomorrow. I am already up too late. Tomorrow will be a shit show of suffering.

Eh well.

That would also be something I would escape from. Run away. No more questions.