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There is a gap in my memory.
Almost as if it is a forbidden past.
No recollection, just empty space
Memories that should be treasured
But are only blackness in time.

Why?
Why were those memories so voluntarily sacrificed to the dark abyss of forgetfulness?
My only conclusion is self-preservation for my sanity.
Events that were not meant for remembrance.
Wounds that were not meant to be opened.
Scars that would fade with the passage of time.
The lack of feeling prevents the pain.
But what pain am I trying to forget?

The mystery is real and one that I have pondered for quite some time.
When I would reach into the crevices of my mind and find no memories before the age of eight.
People would try to call my bluff.
Until I look at them with empty eyes and a childhood which was purposely forgotten.

Whatever happened could not have been that bad to cause amnesia.
I guess I wouldn’t know and probably never will.
I cannot even place one memory and try to build the story around it.
There is nothing.

Is this normal?
Does it explain my erratic adolescence and depression that has followed me into adulthood?
The scars that line my body to tell the story that I am unable to vocalize.
The blood that was lost, a way to express crimson tears for reasons that will forever remain unknown.

Do I even want to know?
I don’t think so.
One of my talents is repression.
Bury it so deep inside that it can never be brought to light.
Hide it deep down and soon you will forget.
Plaster on a plastic smile and emit a laugh and all will be well.
At least in my make-believe world where memories are lost and each day is a new, but not everlasting page in my story.

Continue pondering..