I bumped into an old acquaintance while waiting for the bus on Friday, whom I haven’t seen for two years, and we happened to talk. I wasn’t sure what to feel really. I felt a little awkward, a little shy, mostly self-conscious. At the time, and even now, I wonder if she thought about the time I asked her out when I found her to be terribly attractive. Even when I think about it now, so many memories come flooding back to me of first year, and all the people related to that phase in my life.

It’s hard for me to feel very strongly about anything that happened in that year, but for some reason I wish I forgot most of what happened.

This seems to be the case for most of my life, where something will remind me of one thing, which will remind me of another thing, which will just make me remember something I wish I didn’t. There seems to be so many things that can bring forth bad memories, even the smell of a house, the colour of the sky, the taste of dry turkey. Sometimes, I wish that I was as ignorant as John (or as ignorant as John pretends to be), so I could live without needing to come to terms with any of my past. That way I could live with things that happen day-to-day and my life would be much simpler.

But I can’t forget what has happened and what I’ve done. It’s like some strange curse that I have to live with, the ghosts of the past never leaving my mind.

And on it goes.