on memories

there is a difference between inner memories and outer memories. inner memories belong to us, and to us alone. no one else can see them or feel them. they often hurt, and hurt like hell at first, but they are often more eroded by time. eventually we forgive, and even if we don't forget (somethings are unforgetable), we manage to at least lose the resentment. but outer memories do not belong to us alone, because they are not inside of us. they are on the outside, random mementos of the past that at some point became a part of our lives. after that they are hard to let go. incredibly hard. i remember walking into that room, watching those and calling them horcruxes*, a wicked way of keeping the soul alive after it is broken. those were objects, all objects of different kinds. but it doesn't take an object. it might be an habit, a changed routine, an expectation. these are more strong when facing the time. even if we can get rid of them, if they're objects, we will be remembering in the moment of destruction; as such the immolation could bring no catharsis, only more pain, pain derived from denial. even if we change or reverse them, shall they be habits and routines, denial will keep stinging us in the back of our head, telling us that something is wrong. that something is missing. these outer memories are thus hard to destroy, because the moment of destruction is itself a memory, and often a painful one. they persist through time, always remembering us of what once was. and they are hard to forget: we can ignore them, we can not even acknowledge they presence during our daily lives; but it takes only a moment, a shard of a second, when our eyes randomly focus on them, and everything comes crashing down. 

the bottom line is, we are all hostages of our memories.

*yes, i took the word and the concept from the harry potter universe. found it oddly appropriated.