As time lengthens after a notable occurrence or significant feeling, their gravity and severity often dissipate… or at the very least, soften and blur. I believe this is mandatory in order for sanity to stay intact.
I often recall feelings from many years ago as if they were born today, and while I am glad to have had experiences worthy of strong memory, if their potency were to diminish a bit, it would make my psychological situation a little more manageable.
Maybe they are simply un-reconciled within me; Maybe I am just a big fuckin’ baby. Either way, when I look around my house at some of the non-disposable things that live there, my eyes often well up and my heart drops. Many other innocuous incidents elicit a similar result.
I am quite sad, quite often. I’m not an overtly morose sort, and certainly not one that needs or solicits sympathy for troubles I have undoubtedly brought on myself. I am also not one that believes being sensitive makes me weak; Quite the opposite. The darkness and ill-ease that keep me up at night also drive me; Sometimes mad, but often times to, through, and past any goals I set or roadblocks that may stand in my way.
And maybe if hard things softened over time, as I wished, it would be a disservice to the memory. Maybe the honor of enduring the experience is served best by its memory staying sharp and mean, and proving useful in guiding my future path.