Nothing is ever forgotten

In Doctor Who (the only show I bother to watch right now, though that’s changing because I’m going to make an effort to watch Futurama and Fringe as per James’s suggestion/demanding πŸ˜†), the notion of forgetting and the notion of memories and such memories being lost or nonexistent in parallel worlds, is explored or used as a plot line. One quote from the Doctor is that “nothing is ever forgotten”.

I began to ponder this phrase, thinking about the little things that I feel like I forget. Over the course of a day, there are small, minute things that I forget. I am willing to admit that these are often things to do with cleaning the house, or putting something away. Really small things like cleaning under a table or finding some plastic bags or taking out the trash… um.

I get this horrible feeling when I remember that I have forgotten something. It’s a bit like, “oh no, oh shit, I forgot this…” I don’t think that I really forget things, because there is always something that makes me remember it. I think that most of the time we are reminded. Even if the thing that is forgotten is no longer important or we remember far too late, it must have been tucked in the back of our minds somewhere.

There are random times when I remember something from my past, just like that. There are times when I listen to a song and suddenly remember something that happened while I was listening to that song many years ago. A lot of things have a story. When you see something that you own – a phone, for example – you might recall the day you first got that phone, the days you spent on it playing Bejeweled, the text messages you received, the times you dropped it, the times it rang while you were asleep, the times it woke you up with its alarm.

There are times I’m talking to a friend, and my friend might say, “oh my god do you remember when…”

The hell I do. Most of the time they mention one of the most hilarious moments we’ve ever shared. Or it’s an embarrassing moment I don’t want to think about anymore, but we both laugh it off anyway. Sometimes it’s a moment that made us angry and pissed off, but looking back, it was very funny.

I had a fight with my mum last night, ugh. It involved a lot of screaming, swearing and hitting. I never like to elaborate on these things. But the first person I turned to was James. Even though he wasn’t physically with me, even though I wished he was there to cheer me up, I contacted him anyway. He’s my best friend. And at this point, I had a story to tell – a sad one at that, but a story all the same. Every day, I have a story to tell him. And I notice every day, he has a story to tell me.

Is it not every time you meet someone you ask how they’re doing, what’s going on, what they’re up to… and most of the time, they have an answer? One of my teachers told me once: Everyone has a story. Everyone has something to say. All those things we think are forgotten but that we sometimes remember – are stories. Little things we forget then remember, like our first kiss, that fight we had with our best friend, that time we cried when we were younger, that time we were scarred forever, that time we failed something we tried so hard at, that time we did something we never thought we’d ever do. Every little moment is a story.

Every person is made up of stories.

We’re all stories in the end.

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