A lonely memory

 I really enjoyed living in my memories. Looking over old photos, recalling past adventures, past joys, sorrows, and lessons. I would argue that I visited too often, cherishing memories more than the present moment. Even when something amazing was happening, it was difficult to wholly focus on the moment, sometimes finding myself thinking ahead to what an amazing memory this would later be. 

I don't visit my memories as often now, or perhaps I visit them in a different form. Scrolling through old photos, thinking about how old friendships and relationships used to be... those forms of visits have all but come to an end. I cannot for certain say it was my own choice to stop remembering these moments, or as time passed on, I no longer had room for memories that ultimately had no place in the future.

There was a time when I despised forgetting things. Without any special effort, I was able to recall the past, often to my friends displeasure. Every embarrassing memory, silly, less-than-proud moments, I could be counted on to bring them back up to the surface. When others forgot things that I found rather important or monumental, I took it personally. It hurt to realize that I was the only one who recalled the past; in this state, could my single recollection of this time be trustworthy? A memory that exists only in my own mind, gone from others - no one else would be able to validate its existence. A time that no longer exists in anthers subconscious, a time that would disappear once I also ceased to remember it.