Alive in the moment.

I know I could dedicate hours to reflecting then writing over all that has happened in the past days. So much goes missing in even a daily journal that I worry that they have gone missing from my mind's memories as well. The idea that I can't or that it will be difficult to retrieve instances and emotions that I felt seems like self-sabotage.

I have found myself philosophizing the term "thought." I am feeling more and more that thought (noun) and to think (verb) transmute themselves into actual beings. I look to personify Thought and explain that it lives as a separate being from oneself. We form a relationship with it; always attempting to grasp, understand and have it be a part of us. But it is entirely separate from us. And that is why when I think or I reflect over my thoughts, I find myself looking out at 'some thing' that is not inside of me but is at a distance from me.

The memories are hazy. They were there, I know this. But I don't know exactly what was taking place. And in the process of what will be the memory, I know I am completely emerged and intoxicated by what is being said, expressed and confessed. I remind myself to remember, remember, remember it all. And because I feel so awake, so alive in the moment, I am confident I will remember the moment more than most anything. But the next day or even minutes later, I feel as though I have awaken either from a dream or have awoken into the phase of another pattern of sleep. I can't remember what went on, I can't hear what had been said and it is if I had been heavily intoxicated that I wake in a fog of remembrance.