If I were on trial for masochism, I would be found guilty.
Very, very guilty.
I was reading this study today about how physical actions actually incite emotional responses. So, for example, if you're forced to frown (because you have to hold a pen between your lips - not your teeth), you'll find things less funny and you'll be more unhappy. It seems to be true.
Which is why I've been working really hard to try and smile and get out more and do things with my friends - lots of exciting plans this weekend.
Because I need to be done being masochistic. Because hibernating is bad for my health (I am not a bear, and besides, it isn't winter in this hemisphere). Because the truth is, things don't get better just because time passes. Time passes and your brain helps you fade the edges of the memories that seem to attack you at unsuspecting moments. Time saps their strength so they can't come out and haunt you as often. People call it forgetting.
The curse of a memory like mine - and many would say I have an arguably brilliant memory - is that I don't forget. Time helps me as it helps everyone else, but the number of details that flash before my eyes ... it would give an epileptic a seizure. Soon, these memories will be photoshopped into the collage of history, my epic timeline. There, they will sit and wait for their moment. The moment they can sneak out and attack.
I've always given them the chance before. The old memories ... they had time, I gave them as much fodder as they needed and they stayed strong for ages past their expiration. These memories...they won't get that chance. I plan to feed them the poison of my happiness. Of hours on the Shenandoah River with some of the greatest teammates a girl could have. Of fireworks on the National Mall (or maybe from a rooftop, we'll see). Of family and friends and laughter.
I hope time will give me a hand, but in the mean time, if I'm going to be guilty, I might as well be guilty of doing something fun.
Love always, ~Heather
Very, very guilty.
I was reading this study today about how physical actions actually incite emotional responses. So, for example, if you're forced to frown (because you have to hold a pen between your lips - not your teeth), you'll find things less funny and you'll be more unhappy. It seems to be true.
Which is why I've been working really hard to try and smile and get out more and do things with my friends - lots of exciting plans this weekend.
Because I need to be done being masochistic. Because hibernating is bad for my health (I am not a bear, and besides, it isn't winter in this hemisphere). Because the truth is, things don't get better just because time passes. Time passes and your brain helps you fade the edges of the memories that seem to attack you at unsuspecting moments. Time saps their strength so they can't come out and haunt you as often. People call it forgetting.
The curse of a memory like mine - and many would say I have an arguably brilliant memory - is that I don't forget. Time helps me as it helps everyone else, but the number of details that flash before my eyes ... it would give an epileptic a seizure. Soon, these memories will be photoshopped into the collage of history, my epic timeline. There, they will sit and wait for their moment. The moment they can sneak out and attack.
I've always given them the chance before. The old memories ... they had time, I gave them as much fodder as they needed and they stayed strong for ages past their expiration. These memories...they won't get that chance. I plan to feed them the poison of my happiness. Of hours on the Shenandoah River with some of the greatest teammates a girl could have. Of fireworks on the National Mall (or maybe from a rooftop, we'll see). Of family and friends and laughter.
I hope time will give me a hand, but in the mean time, if I'm going to be guilty, I might as well be guilty of doing something fun.
Love always, ~Heather
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