We’re constantly changing facts, rewriting history to make things easier, to make them fit in with our preferred version of events. We do it automatically. We invent memories. Without thinking. If we tell ourselves something happened often enough we start to believe it, and then we can actually remember it.

I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd fought for you. I was weak and stupid.

Do you trust me? The question is usually asked before an admission that such trust is misplaced.

‎"Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time? For desire to ride with fear?

I cannot imagine how I will cope when I discover that my life is behind me, has already happened, and I have nothing to show for it. No treasure house of collection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?

There are memories I a better off without. Things better lost forever.

Whatever enjoyment I might have had at the time would disappear overnight like snow melting on a warm roof.