Memories

In my adult life, I recently glimpsed something from my childhood, and it was changed. I find that a memory, cherished over many years has lost its focus, the details of the memory have fallen away like so much old paint in the wind and rain. The memory, carefully stored, polished, worshiped and ultimately twisted by my own love of it now feels every bit as false as any storybook myth.

I base my life, actions and choices on memories, experiences, knowledge learned and stored. What if my every memory is warped slowly by the weight of time building ever upon it? How can I hope to endure when my memories morph like quicksand beneath my feet and the world around me makes a thousand tiny attempts each day to bend me to its will? Am I destined to be washed away in a tide of conformity?