Flitting Memories

I don't know what good memories really serve us: whether they positively or negatively contribute to our present and future lives is a question I'll always be asking. Why do we pick and choose certain memories over others as we hold them up under the spotlight?

High school is definitely one of those memories that are truly questionable to me, the intentions of those memories always sends chills down my spine: Because I don't know what I feel about high school. Two years after graduating, I'm still not sure if high school is a good or a bad memory. All I know is that I have truly been impacted by the events that occurred, the people that I met and the things that I went through.

It's strange to bring this up all of the sudden. Two years have passed and I guess the trouble with commuting to your school is being jaded by the fact that you're being followed by your past where ever you go. Although college is a different world from high school, the shadow still follows close behind. I never really understood Facebook--and I still don't to this day. Their tagline is to "help you connect and share with the people in your life." So those outside of this are neither connected nor or they in your life apparently. And there are a certain number of obligatory etiquette rules when it comes to Facebook that I just can't wrap my mind around.

If I haven't requested you, then I don't want you in my life. Or simply, I probably just don't care. If you request me, then I have to request you.. because to do otherwise would be rude-even though you were the person that decided we shouldn't be friends anymore.

What the hell is this about? We've all decided to hide behind putting any real effort into anything. We take advantage of Facebook, using it as a mask for us to hide behind. When you're sorry, you go through Facebook. When you like someone, you talk through Facebook. What happened to actually taking the time to find the person and talk to time... face to face?

The real question is... after all this time, after everything that's happened. Why should I give you the luxury of being my friend through Facebook, when you haven't done more than clicking a link in order to stay in my life?

I wish I knew what to do with those memories, so that I can come up with a solution, but I can't. So, good night--maybe the memories will come back with a solution next time.