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Everything becomes forgotten

I don’t think there’s anything new or profound in the title statement. It’s just an observation after a day of trying to be thankful and joyful. Or semi-happy. Or quarter-happy. Or a smidgen happy. I’ve just been thinking about it some lately, when I had the opportunity to drive someplace which I hadn’t driven to in more than 15 years maybe. Yeah, I remembered some stuff, but so much was forgotten. And I’m not someone who forgets easily. Things get stuck in my head. But even me, eventually I’ll forget.

That saddens me. I suppose it’s useless, but it saddens me. It’s a sensation of wrongness, how memories fade, evaporate, get erased, lost, crumpled, wrecked, broken, smashed, torn, eradicated, wiped away, wiped out, removed, deleted. I wonder — would it be a happier world if we could remember everything or would it be happier if we could forget everything? Both questions are useless, they aren’t realistic. I just wonder how it is some can put memory into the past so easily and let it fade into nothingness. They are probably happier people, I guess.

This last weekend, there was the Philadelphia marathon and half-marathon. I ran the half-marathon there from 2007 to 2010. But not this year. 2 men died running the marathon this year there. I still remember a lot about the ones I ran 2007, 08, and 09. Last year’s was more of a blur. I was probably depressed when I did it last year and it was a struggle. I wasn’t trained for it. But I did it because I had paid the money to do it. The other ones were far more meaningful to me. 2007 for the way I got a chance to say, “Fuck you, type 1 diabetes, you can’t stop me.” 2008 for doing it again and fighting through some of the worst cramping I’ve ever known. My legs cramped up to all hell and I refused to give up. 2009’s seems to be nearly etched into my memory because of who I ran with that day. Because of what I gave up that day. I had been prepared to run a full marathon, a feat that not all that many type 1 diabetics have accomplished. But I gave that up because of what I felt to be more important, the person that I ran with. Now I don’t now whether I’ll ever commit myself to the idea again of running a marathon. Maybe, maybe not.

But one day all those memories will be gone. My eyes, if they aren’t already shut, will be shut, if I die peacefully some place. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll have the misfortune of some terrible accidental death. The point is my brain will stop functioning and all that was me and all that was my memory will be gone. Poof. And there’ll be no memory of the small inconsequential things of my life. No memory of the somewhat amazing things of my life. It’ll be nothing and no more. Nothing. Rien. Nada. Nenio.


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