Reminiscence of Happier Times

I realize that I do miss army life after all. Like fermenting yeast-turned wine, those lousy and dreadful experiences will, after a period of time, miraculously turn into precious and amusing memories. Like wine, they only get better with age.

Why is it that the past and future invariably seem rosier and happier than the present. I admit that my present predicament sucks. But then again, would I - in a few years time - look back and hold my current predicament in higher regard. Would my present then still be less desirable than the past - my painful present. Probably. The recallable past - our disjointed memories - is like a photo collage, sagaciously selected and strung together from our experiences; sequence of occurrences. They look good. Like a movie reel, selected bits are screened out and imprinted into our mind - frozen in time - they are played over and over again, as often as we like. Our subconsciousness is like a partially permeable membrane, like a sieve. Most occurrences, like sand through sieve, will be forgotten. They will be lost through the passage of time. The rare remnants that retain are consigned to posterity. Self defense mechanism ensures that painful experiences are usually blocked out. As such our memories are but skewed depiction of reality that rarely stand the scrutiny of time. They degrade and corrode over time. They become sketchy, distant, obscure and no longer dependable. This could be the reason why reminiscences of the old days almost always bring about nostalgia and a pleasant evocation of the past. We were always happier.

The sand is symbolic of the tangible occurrences in our life and the sieve of the human mind seeking truth. Truth is elusive and impossible to grasp in any permanent way. Our memories are like a mirage, they are rarely what they seem

I have been on this road to recovery for slightly over 6 months now. I am growing weary, but the way out is to see it through. I have learnt not to give in halfway, not to end things prematurely, but to allow things to see out its course. I really hope to be better soon. This aimless outlook of life is slowly poisoning me. Apathetic much.

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And as the years have passed, the time has grown longer. The sad truth is that what I could recall in five seconds all too needed ten, then thirty, then a full minute - like shadows lengthening at dusk. Someday, I suppose, the shadows will be swallowed up in darkness. 

- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood