Sometimes I am reminded of the time I spend wandering through the forest of my memories. As you hike through the swirls of the cerebellum you are surrounded with all sorts of woodland creatures in the form of memories. Some of them are warm and fuzzy, some are brief glimpses of bright color that flitter away without solid imagery, others are the rough bark of a tree you stumbled against, and at some point you discover a cave. Partially grown over with brush you have to work a bit to gain access ans as soon as you do you realize there may have been a reason this cave was abandoned. The images etched in mud, blood , and root dye depict a scene of chaos and pain and in the midst of this revelation a splash of cold bitterness floods the world and I become aware of the fact that I need a refill and that maybe it's time to stop daydreaming and find something to provide some good memories which will hopefully help the vines regrow over the den they once were shading.
good memories,bad memories,good life, bad life,good parents,bad parents.how do you judge what is good or bad these days.i have to look back and ponder this becouse for everything bad thats happened in my life there was a lesson to be learned or a goodness that came out of it in the end.
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