Sometimes, memory is a bad thing. A very bad thing.
Today in school, I had an odd mood swing. I was fine up until my sixth period class, where I got insanely hyper for no apparent reason. Then, at seventh period, I shut down. “Shut down” is what I say when I don’t exactly feel sad, but it’s the closest to how I’m feeling. I did nothing in this class. I wasn’t feeling better by 8th period and did everything slowly: walking in the hallway with my head down, barely paying attention despite wanting to, writing slowly, having my head down with my arms crossed.
Then, for no reason, I started thinking about the past abuse I dealt with as a child. Mostly my mother screaming “Answer Me” at my face, but some other things. I also remembered the times she hit me and threatened to, but the screaming came to my mind more. Alright, maybe screaming isn’t abuse and the hitting borders on it (I really don’t know), but it’s not something I recall helping me down the line in any way. After those memories, I started thinking of a scene from a TV show where a woman in her early twenties is called nothing because she slacks off at new job. Except I put myself in the scene and imagined wanting to throw myself off a building after that. I imagined this several times in different ways and eventually started crying. Fortunately, not much and no one noticed.
Why this happened, I don’t know, but it’s not the first time. I don’t do it on purpose. After all, who’d want to recall something painful? So my wish for this Wednesday is that I could forget all of this and every painful memory I have of my childhood and adolescence. That wouldn’t leave many for childhood, but I’d rather remember nothing than remember hurt.