It happened. Am I remembering, or am I just remembering myself remembering it. I almost cherish not knowing why or how. But I still seek an explanation. Some things happen over and over, outside of one’s control or desires. The pieces that are missing – are they gone with good reason. I would like to be honest about all of this because I know I know what is right and what is wrong. What would I be, if it not for my confessions. Doubts. Dreams. And my logic. Repetition, empty holes, truth. And lies. I am memory.