Analysis Of My Own Recollection
I am becoming obsessed with the fickle and unreliable nature of my memory.
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There is a memory. A boyfriend, The sister, The best friend, and I all pile into boyfriend’s car and drive into the city. The lights rushing past like tomorrow is not a promise the gods were willing to make. I remember sticking my head out the window as “I’m Fine” by Mary J. Blige played at full volume. Zooming past the water, letting the wind slap my face and be unhelpful. There was tension. The understanding that we may have lost me along the way, my sanity left back at the house the best friend and I shared. I think I remember the strained laughter, the passengers looking out the window hoping I would come back to us. The boyfriend at the time held my hand tightly but not tight enough to keep me from running into the street’s arms. And the sister said “what the fuck do you think you’re doing. Do you want to die here?” i think. Or something similar.And the best friend was as quiet as I can picture her, staring and probably dealing with her own slipping she says “I think I’m making things worse” or something. All the lights were too bright, and I didn’t want to die but there was a confusion. A dream to escape from. And that was proof then.
There is another memory. A boyfriend (same boyfriend), and another partner (older partner from the previously), and a friend (love interest at some times, there was a threesome with a different partner, let's not get into that) pile into friend/love interest’s car? A boyfriend’s car? I sit shotgun. We are driving in downtown Oakland somewhere. There was no real reason to leave the apartment I shared with no one presently in the vehicle. And the action itself was not as particular or strange enough for memory to serve me. It really was the journey that took precedent. The existence of all this different type of love bundled into the seats. The night before, these three (without me) piled into a car and (I assume) laughed awkwardly or drunkenly and brought back so many vapes I don’t understand how any of us are still breathing. It was my birthday then. And I flew previous partner all the way from Atlanta to Oakland in a manic haze because I wanted to be surrounded by someone who loves me infinitely. And the boyfriend (not at the time because at this time we broke up in a way I’m not proud of) beamed in the backseat all full of boyish charm and goodness he says “we’re such an interesting friend group” or something and everyone else in the car simultaneously says “we’re not a friend group” and this, I specifically remember, made me smile. And that was proof then.
Yet another memory exists of piling into a high school friend’s car with some of the San Francisco friends and their fairy energy and driving to the liquor store in Atlanta close to a childhood home. It was a quick night. The vibe was unknowable. Catfish played at some point and we all crammed into the sister’s? Bedroom before it became a cat room and before my room became the baby’s. I think we bought wine or ciders at the liquor store. The all too familiar feeling of not wanting my mother to know. But we were of age and we were young too and we were acquainted in the art of putting different lives together. Melding pasts with presents. Retracing steps and redefining the space. I don’t remember laughter. The liquor store lights were too bright and the booze was cheap. I don’t remember if i was freaked out but i must’ve felt some type of dream like. All the existing together out of time. All the high school friends aging all the first loves passing through and the crushes had on one of the san francisco friends and the not knowing where any of them are now. And that was proof then,
Memory is nonsense.