THE MEMORY OF NOTHING IMPORTANT

              Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Me Talking.  I remember once I was at a party. The party was being held inside a small party hall on the north side of Chicago, although the name I don’t remember at the time. Upon entering the event I was taken aback by the amount of people there. I mean we are talking about 100+ people stuffed into this small party floor. The music was grand, and the people were abnormal. Now, I was 15 at the time being accompanied by my twin sister. We enjoyed ourselves very much and left at about one or so. I thought the party was great. A couple of days passed, and the memory soon faded away. Recently, I was walking down the hallway on a cold February morning, when my name was called out. I turned, and before me stood a plain, short white girl. I could have sworn I had never met the girl in my life, so you can understand the sort of shock I was in. I stood there as she approached me, and we spoke:

Me: Yes?

Her: you don’t remember me?

Me: (pause for a moment) I’m afraid I don’t.

Her: you were at *****’s party weren’t you?

Me: Yeah, I remember that.

Her: Yeah, how are you?

Me: Well, I’m kinda good. You know, around.

Her: That’s good. Well, I’ll see you around then.

The bell rang, so I was late to my class. I have nothing wrong with people stopping for a quick chat with me in the hallway, but I was questioning what the girl was planning on happening. Did she expect some kind of friendship to arise from this one experience? I was polite, I mean, what was the point of making her feel bad? I have not seen that girl since, and no one seems to know her, which led me to question my mental state itself. Isn’t that sort of crazy? If I were to tell someone about this experience I know they wouldn’t believe me. Now that I noticed, I never received the girl’s name! It’s odd to be a part of something, and not be a part of it at the same time. I’m really writing this post to sort of assure myself that this experience happened. Funny, isn’t it? That’s why I feel especially sore when I study the schizophrenics and the Alzheimer’s disease victims. I can’t imagine the idea of forgetting something about myself or someone whom I have spent a long time with. I really can’t. Whenever I think of that experience now, I like to think of how strong we really are in our memory. When I pass, how can one really be sure that your name or your face or even if it was just the way you walked or a moment when your voice was heard? It’s interesting to think about those things sometimes.

                                                               P.E.N.T.C.I.