What happens to a memory once you forget it? Does that event exist anymore? I've always been a reflective person, sometimes it feels like I walk through life backwards, only examining my steps after I take them. I am always amazed by the people who are able to power through life without looking back. To tell you the truth, a lot of times I find myself envious of them. Envious of how they can take each day for today, like a renew beginning. Unlike me who sees every event as a continuation of a story, everything always connecting. There are times that I feel plagued, or that I am cursed. Cursed to be the holder of memories, no matter if they are insufficant or small. Embarrasing or hurtful. Joyus or happy. Picked to the Jonas of my society.... but then I think what it must be to forget. And in one of the many nuggets of Disney wisdom I think about what Jamba once said...."What must it be like to have nothing, not even memories to look back on in the middle of the night?"
Then I realized that maybe we are both flawed, the ones who remember and the ones who forget.... or better yet... nothing is wrong with either of us.