Memories… I was young and the world filled with possibilities. I had choices everywhere I turned. What to do with my life, who to share it with, where to live it. Memories however are not true to experiences. They’re filtered through a soft lens of sentimentality. Bittersweet times that were far from perfect, but had flashes of perfection that I would freeze in time if I could. Knowing how life turns out taints the perfection of those frozen moments. I hate sentimentality, its ineffectual emotions that bubble to surface uncovering long buried feelings of wretchedness and shedding light on disappointment.
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The Daily Post, March 7, 2016, Daily Prompt: Sentimental~Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sentimental/”>Sentimental</a>
I’m in a different boat. If feeling sentimental about something helps me forget painful experiences, why not. I don’t care to dig at scars if nothing can be gained except to know I was in pain. For example, my little sister had colic and cried every afternoon, but what I remember about the delightfulness of rocking and loving her so much surpasses that. Sentimental feelings I revel in. Not arguing your point, just explaining mine.
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Good point!
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