These aren’t exactly memories but
memories of memories
Thoughts that I once had upon waking that become more infrequent as more life is lived, more experience is piled on top of the old data. Until what you once believed to be real becomes an echo of the thing.
echoing an echo
Your memories of dreams and dreams of memories both still guiding you
like the tail on a kite
I don’t think that’s how kites work
That’s exactly how kites work. They produce drag in-line with the axis of flight, creating stability.
sometimes they’re just for decoration though
Sometimes people post to social media just for attention. I think we were a happy baby. Until they put us in pre-school for two years, that was
like prison
we didn’t even talk to anyone that first year, when we were three?
Fuck that, everyone was crazy. You checked bikes out from here, you napped there. You painted but only at a certain time on this day. And then we could only play with the blocks during these hours.
I wasn’t tired and I had to lay on that mat and pretend like I was sleeping.
