Meander of Thoughts

Do we exist outside the gaze of others? We can try, but if there is no one else to validate our actions, thoughts or mere existence can we still maintain a sufficient degree of care and self-consciousness to continue behaving like humans?

I remember being in high school and having to write a dissertation on a question just like that for my philosophy class. I also remember getting the highest grade. Shame I don't remember my arguments so well now. Back then I was far better at focusing my thoughts and I could delve into topics with such depths and yet without much effort at all... it was like a flowing river, no big deal. But as time goes by the mind seems to get increasingly cluttered, and then memories grow fuzzier to the point where one is left to wonder if what they remember is really down to what happened in the past or mere imaginations.

Last night I was reminded of the all elusive and ephemeral aspect of 'memories'. I found myself reading back a page written in French a few years back that told the beginning of my own story as I moved countries as a teen. All the detail contained in that one little page was what struck me. It was so sincere, so simple, so... authentic. It was a perfect example of a piece of writing that had truly come from my heart, from me. I finished reading the page and my heart hurt with regrets, tears swelling in my eyes as I thought to myself: "Why did I stop there? Why didn't I keep going with this story?..."
It was written so long ago, at a time when my memories were still fresh, all of them retaining the depth of thoughts and feelings, the touch, the smells, the sights and even the sounds... all of it was more or less captured within my mind and heart and had allowed me to translate it into words on paper/screen. But at the time for some reason I could not go on. It felt too raw, too recent or 'close' to my person, and I naively told myself that in time, some day, I would feel 'ready' to write that story..

Well, 12 years have passed and last night I realised that all those precious memories I believed would always be engraved in my mind have all but vanished for the most part. All the precious detail, the trivial things that could be dismissed as insignificant in daily life but that instil life and depth into a story - authenticity and emotions - most of it is gone, leaving me clutching at vague recollections of events or moments stripped bare and rendered useless, empty, vapid... 

O Memories, why have you betrayed me so?

As I lay in bed last night, haunted by that realisation and unable to stop the ruthless work of Time as the memory snatcher that it is, I tossed and turned, sobbed and sighed... 

"It was all in vain!" shouted my mind from within, twisting the knife further into my heart. "All in vain!..."

And then I propped myself up on on elbow, startled by a new line of thoughts that had suddenly gripped my mind as I sobbed over the pointlessness of it all. It was about life in general, and then Love, and what an intrinsically unattainable ideal it really seemed to be ultimately. Most of us spend our lives getting attached (biological/instinct based)and being social (herd-like behaviour and needs)- neither of which is love.

Christians are often mocked for basing their religion/faith solely on love. Many a time a non-believer will say things like: "Is that all, eh? That' just too easy and convenient" , and the same mocking tone might be taken when told that asking for forgiveness is all that it takes for anyone in the wrong to be forgiven. But to be truly repentant is no simplistic affair or the matter of just putting a fake smile on one's lips. It is one of the hardest things, because it requires feeling the weight and torture of a conscience first.  As for Love...  the ability to love seems to be the rarest thing, and the ability to nurture and preserve that feeling is even rarer.