Imaginary Memories
I sometimes reminisce on events that never actually occurred - usually times of success - despite my meager accomplishments
The fake memories make it hard to separate reality from fiction, longing from truth, mediocrity from the excellent
My world sinks after each high as the crushing lows become deeper and darker, as my memories grow more extravagant reality steadily becomes bleaker until all that remains is a slump so low I can hardly discern anything.
I learned to rely on meaningless escapes, empty pleasures, simple gratification, to avoid these slumps bu the depression is inevitable and the more I run the emptier I feel.
From a young age we are taught to dream big, to reach for the unimaginable, to carve our own existence into the unforgettable. But no one ever reveals the danger this holds. When the dream is too big or the person not enough
Why wasn’t I enough?
