encrypted

splinter. it's kinda fitting that something's left behind by our encounters. when something impacts us, physically, it imparts a token, to remind us it was there. a shard of glass, a needle of wood. or even a bruise or scar. sometimes we completely forget it's there - until we brush against something. other times we can't ignore it, even when we want it to be gone from our attention. it lingers, a constant rubbing. it's like that with people. i think. not that i'm tryna be philosophical. sometimes you remember someone so vividly that it's like someone's come and brushed away the mugginess of our relative amnesia. like the fog in your glasses when you bend and extract something from the oven. cos it really is scary how much we forget. when sometimes our memories are the only proof that it ever happened. what is it that makes them stand out? i dunno. sometimes it's something little. insignificant. the shoes they're wearing - the same ones your brother has. other times its kinda important - conducting first aid on a lady who just collapsed on the sidewalk. the impressions those encounters leave are relatively straightfoward though. in year 11, my quirky physics teacher bumbled on about impulses - basically the moment of impact. it was determined by the force and the acceleration of the body, i think. the momentum. yeah. maybe. but essentially, if you've only had five minutes to build momentum, then only five minutes' worth will be left in your recollection. what about a lifetime? how do we capture a life? when there have been fluctuations, ebbs and flows, tears and smiles... now i'm getting cliche, but i'm actually trying to be sincere. do they all cancel out? do they get flattened out in the cosmic scheme of things? i was wondering about the impressions people leave on us. and then i started to reflect on the impression we leave on people. one night, someone screams and flings bitter and abrasive words at another. someone who they have loved so much more deeply than those flimsy words could ever tap into. and then he dies. kills himself. the same night. what impression will he have of her, as he rests in timelessness? will it be of their final encounter? or will that noose give him that degree of separation to see their friendship in its entirety? i'm inclined to think, to hope, that those final words will disintegrate into insignificance in light of the pastiche of memories we collect of a person. and that's why those memories are so important. so much more important than a crusty string of words.
anyway.
enough.