When I was 12 years old, I was laying in bed thinking about whatever it was I was thinking about. As I was thinking about whatever it was I was thinking about, the thing I was thinking about required an image of a person I knew. I proceeded to have their face in my mind, but after a little while something happened. Something was off. The image of their face was in my mind for a little too long, enough so that it wasn't exactly what I thought they looked like. I couldn't picture the shape of the nose. I couldn't see how far away the eyes were from each other.
What was happening? What exactly did they look like??
And the more I tried to picture their face, the more it just looked like a jumbled mess. I was now worried, thinking that maybe I will never be able to picture someone without a photo of them in front of me. It scared me. What am I without my memory??
I started getting truly worried, so I went downstairs to my parents, who were sitting in the kitchen. I explained to them as best I could what was happening in my mind. As I talked, I continued to try to piece together the face, only to find it more of a muddle than before. I started crying. Neither of my parents knew what to say to me, except to relax and stop thinking about it for a while. I went upstairs, back to bed, never having defeated my own memories.
Still to this day, I can't say that when I close my eyes I can picture a face in it's fully formed state, but I learned that night that some things don't need to be remembered in the way other things do. Sometimes the more you think about things, the less clear they become.
- Lee (while listening to In A Priest Driven Ambulance by The Flaming Lips)