romeo? i think i used to have a scene with him (repost from myspace)

march 16, 2008:

I’m worried that I’m starting to forget. Or, more accurately, worried that I’m not starting to forget... but that I’ve been forgetting all along and I’ve just now started to notice.
When I was in, say, middle school, I assumed that I would never be like my parents. And my very sound reason behind this assumption was that I would never forget what it was like to be that age. That I would always remember my emotions and my view-points and that this would keep me young. That this would keep me from being unseeing or un-understanding. And to an extent.. yes, I still remember. But what I remember now are events; large life-changing, world-shattering events. Things that have shaped who I am today. Things that tore up how I thought about my world and made me realize that East Cobb was not life. That there was more, infinitely more, to the world than what I had yet experienced, and made me yearn for the future.
But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about day-to-day. People I saw. Things I thought without knowing I thought them. And I can’t even say exactly what it is... but I know it’s gone.
Every now and again I’ll come across something... a photograph or a quote and .... It doesn’t bring back memories in a violent jolt. Because a violent jolt would indicate something I knew I had lost, and was seeking to get back. Instead this photo, say, will just make me smile ruefully and say to myself "oh, that’s right... that was me. I suppose I had forgotten."
So at this point I can sit down, and try to think. And come up with items that are likely to be lost. Times that were unimportant but at the same time very important that were on the verge of being lost. But what about the times that are gone forever? The people I see in restaurants now whom I used to see everyday and whose names I just don’t know. Ah, Lord, it breaks my heart. And I don’t even know why.
It’s not even that I might need these memories at any point. Much more likely that it simply means I’m growing up. I’m replacing, not my fourth-grade crush’s name, but... the rest of the class’s names.... with.. I don’t know... with html. With vinyl grains. With the sound an engine makes when it wants to down-shift. Replacing things I don’t need with things I possibly do.
Why is that sad to me?
I’m probably just afraid of growing up. I’ve always tried to look around and say "Ah, yes, youth. I need to enjoy this, because I only get one." But you can’t actually make yourself cherish something more that you might naturally do. Probably because you can’t long to replay a moment that’s currently happening. And you won’t know how important something will be to you until you can compare it againts other instances in your life.
So, to all the people I’ve forgotten: I am so sorry. Deeply, desperately sorry. You are important and you are special and you’re out there, forgetting me, and I guess that’s beautiful in it’s own way.
And to the little past Mes that I’m forgetting every moment: Thank you. Apparently I do have to grow up. But if I have to, at least I get to be a grown-up version of you.