Hi! Do you remember blogs? Well, this used to be one. Now it just serves as an archive for my multiple Twitter accounts.
In the midst of a discussion around a glass of Coke, I remembered Albedo’s idea: «
childhood memories scarcely are real memories… it’s not pleasant to hear but that’s the way it is, most of them are reconstructed. » And I realized it was a perfect explaination to something I always thought weird: the (very few) memories I have from my early childhood are not in first-person view but seen from the outside, as on TV, or as if my childhood had been a long near death experience I lingered in for a while. Which isn’t wrong either, but that’s not the point. So it’s probably true that memories are false.
What I like about this theory is that it’s a sweet justification to the fact I have so few memories from that age: it wouldn’t be that I was traumatized and forgot all about it because it was so bad, nor that I have memory troubles, but just that I’m less delusional than others, and I don’t drown my mind in fake memories because I only see the truth, I see clearly through life, I’m lucid and zen—in a few words, I’m better than you.
And you know I enjoy that.
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