This shit depresses me. It’s like time travel for me when I go back in the recesses of my mind. It’s so vivid. I remember the smells, and the way the sunlight fell on certain moments that had meaning. I can think back to just about any year and I can hear the old TV programs in the background of my life, and how on a Sunday evening the town was mostly quiet, and I could go outside and feel the wind in my hair as I took mental footage of everything. For me, time travel is real, but it only goes in one direction. I suppose that is why it makes it difficult to recount the bad times.