Memories aren’t how we remember them

It’s funny, as I was writing this entry, talking about a person I had played an online rpg with back in the ’90s, I was struck by how appropriate this title is.

You see, I remembered that person fondly.  We had played together, in our small online social circle, nearly every day for a year and she’d always struck me as intelligent and fun.  Though we stopped talking, after she casually called me stupid in an email, I still had these fond memories of our friendship until that point.  Fondly enough that I would occasionally think of her, and a few of the others, when the game came to mind – wondering what had ever come of them.

As I was describing this person, and our relationship, for this entry – however – I realized that the feelings I have associated with those memories make no sense.  The person I was describing was an entitled, wealthy, brat who looked down on others and had no empathy, framing everything in how it impacted her.

My original intent, with this entry, had been to express shock that this person didn’t have the same great memories, of those times, as I did.  To point out how strange it is that I could think so fondly of that time, while she barely remembered the game or our tight-knit social circle.

Then I actually looked at the person I was describing.  Of course she’d have nothing but eye-rolling, cringe, memories of a time and people she had long since put out of her mind – we couldn’t serve her in any way, it wouldn’t benefit her to remember us.

The surprise wasn’t that she couldn’t remember, it was that I had so failed to let the reality of who I knew she Was, tarnish the memory of what I wanted to Be.  The surprise was that I expected her to remember.  In a way, I guess that makes me as self-centered as she.

Now I can stop missing the person I made up in her place.


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