Memories;

My mind is home to thousands of sporadic and sensational memories that flood my heart with various emotions. I can remember specific instances extremely intricately and with meticulous detail, yet there remains constant hesitation and uncertainty that these memories are of precedents in my life that ever occurred; and instead, I feel as though they might be false in their entirety. Perhaps my mind simply compiled a range of images derived from sources such as movies, books or songs in order to formulate some childhood memories in my temporal cortex. Perhaps my recollection of years past is completely and inordinately unjust. These thoughts haunt my existence. I have to believe in these memories because they are all that I have. I accept them because I have nothing else to base myself on. They make up my being just as much as the way I present myself now. In theory, they are how I came to be this way. And if these memories I hold to be true are in fact misleading in any way, my current presence in this world has been tainted. In essence, I could be a very minimal aspect of who I was intended to be from the beginning. Perhaps memories are overrated, and we are supposed to make the most of the present in order to create an ideal future. But that must be incorrect because the present eventually transforms into the past, and the future will inevitably become the present.
I think I will just stick to what my heart can handle.