It is weird how selectively our memories work, almost like we remember only impactful parts of dreams. Sometimes, when we remember someone or something, what pops up in our mind as a memory is a fabrication of reality with our imagination or interpretation of the person or event. Retelling of these same stories makes them as real as the present, yet they are not. Most parts are our perspective of a person or place, or event, and if you start sharing, you realise their memories of the same can be different from yours. Perhaps that is why happiness is rare, because when we look back, we only remember the profound moments. We don't try to recollect the unpleasant, the worst days and nightmares, yet they haunt us at our lowest points. But what about the mundane, peaceful days? We fail to appreciate them while they last, because they cause no emotional surge. Yet we crave normalcy and define it as happiness. Imagine if all our days were mundane, we would perhaps be devoid of nostalgia or memories and even nightmares. We chase an idea of happiness while we don't realise when we truly live them in the moment.
© Suranya
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