Plus et Plus, et Moin et Moin...

Life is essentially memory. If something is forgotten, it drops out of existence forever. Never to be found again. Especially personal memories. The secrets, kept in a hidden file cabinet somewhere in the back of your mind.

This is what scares me the most.

It isn't the idea of not knowing, it's the idea of losing forever. People, events, thoughts. Anything can live forever in a memory. Someone once said that a person remembered is never dead. When we forget, we lose those things.

That's why I write everything down. Dreams. Thoughts. Friends. Pneumonic devices just to know that some part of me will stay. I've watched my grandma's Alzheimer's develop from the beginning, when she needed a few seconds to remember my name. Now she can barely remember my grandfather -- calling him her dad -- or my dad and uncle -- calling them "that guy."

I don't want to forget.

At night, instead of trying to forget my day. I rewind and play it again, and again, and again... ad nauseum. Every word, every action, every thought triggered by the two. My only hope is that my mind will remain -- for as long as it can. My "sponge" as I call it, is drying out.