Today is the 9th day I have rewritten every word on this page. Today is my last chance to write down everything I want to remember. We hold onto our memories, and I believe that everyone has the courage to keep them safe. I will fill these pages to overflow with my memories forever and ever and ever. 

In our lives, we are expected to work and do well in every aspect of our lives, and we are taught to remember. But life gets busy and we get tired, causing thousands of our thoughts, ideas, and memories to blur away. Without memories, there would be no history and no stories to tell.

If all of my memories disappeared I would feel lost, with no compass to save me. Everyone I have ever met would be erased from my mind. All faces, voices, and gestures gone within a second. Closing my eyes and holding onto my knees, I would trace over the scars on them wondering, ¨How could I have forgotten my childhood scars?¨And I would try to remember the lullabies my mother used to sing to me.

I will not lose everything I have ever known. I will write thousands of pages if I have to, scattered words in bold letters with blinding nostalgia. Every beautiful picture frame, every gift I´ve given, and every surprise. I will remember and I will thank my grandpa a million times for the money he would always give us because he knew. And my family's laughter and bright blue eyes that I do not share with them. And every single horrid memory of my father.  I will write it all down so I don´t forget. 

I will remember Grandma hugging me, and when she spoke she spoke kindly, happily, and truly. The memory of her voice feels like a slow dance, a calm ocean, brave ideas. When looking deeper into the memory of her, I see beautiful Monarchs flying overhead, deeply colored paintings, and light blue book covers that unfold fairytales. I hear a timeless song, birds chirping in the sunrise fog, and her endless compassion and love for us. Her voice felt like comfort and kindness and all of the sunsets we used to gaze at together. I won't lose the memory of her.

My most important memories are glorious. As they held me close and kissed my forehead like I begged my parents to do. And all of my memories make me feel open, dangerously open, a hollow type of open. Discovering a hollow tree after tearing it down sense of open. 

There are tears streaming down my face, pooling into the palm of my hand. But I am okay, I feel happy and perfectly content with everything I have the courage to remember. I will always breathe in waves of childish enjoyment and relief and anxiousness and overzealous happiness. As I could not live without the memories I have made.