Memories are odd, we all recall them differently, even the same events. They're a scary thing to think about, imagine all of the memories you don't remember. The ones that somehow became lost in the infinite ones you've been collecting your whole life. Sometimes I get worried about the idea of being 80, and not remembering the things I hold dear to me as of right now. Will I ever randomly remember the things I have done today sometime in the future? Will they excite or comfort me as much as they do now? I wanted to use this space to lay out a few memories that for some reason comfort me beyond my own understanding. They aren't extreme and radical events that forever changed my life. They're more so mundane and unentertaining to anyone but me. This is why recently l've become so entangled in the idea of what we remember, how am I able to find comfort in the most dull occurrences in my life?

Sometimes I go through phases of life feeling completely empty like someone could knock me over and I'd shatter into millions of pieces, like a glass set of those foreign dolls you can stack into one another. Matryoshka dolls. Thinking about my past fills some of that emptiness and in return I find myself reminiscing on moments l've felt the most. Which is why times when I have felt my worst are sometimes my favorite memories. The ones filled with the heaviest cries and the heaviest trauma. The trauma part is a stretch, almost making this some sadistic kink of mine, but I am just trying my best to get my point across. Even if the memory is bad it can bring me immense comfort in times of feeling hollow.

That to me, is such an odd phenomenon. I am sure I'm not the only person on this earth who feels the same way. I have fallen into this awkward territory of overly personal conversations with friends.

Where we all agree we miss even the bad times, because they are times we know. I think that also plays a huge factor in why we are all so attached to memories and memorabilia in general. We love what we know. Living amongst billions of other people who know just as much or just as little as you is terrifying. So we can find comfort in what we know, what we love, and what we hate.

Before I'm 80 and find it hard to remember my favorite color, I decided to dedicate a mini magazine to the things I love right now.

(this is from a zine Enya did awhile ago that I think is really beautiful)

[beautiful is one of my favorite words]