The memories I value most don't really make any sense in context. I don't remember any crazy moments that would make people gasp if I shared them (though I'm sure I have some). Instead tiny feelings and pictures of moments have burrowed deep inside my mind.

I remember when I was a kid and I used to lay on my parents bed. The quilt my mom used to have smelt like my grandma, and made a small crinkling noise when I touched it. A lot of my mom's things smelt like grandma back then.

Thinking back is hard- it feels like everything is slipping through the cracks. I don't remember a lot of my childhood. Mostly I just remember quick snapshots and forgotten feelings. The things I do remember feel made up and out of place.

Why do I remember picking my lip until it bled while laying on my mom's bed instead of my seventh birthday? Why do I remember finishing the twilight series while my mom was yelling at me to put my laundry away? Why do I remember getting a grammar question wrong with Mrs Merrit in first grade? Why do I remember more about the day I discovered the sims than the day my sister was born? 

It feels like I've remembered all the wrong things throughout the span of my entire existence. I am still remembering all the wrong things (like today I will remember tripping up the stairs instead of my sister breaking her foot on the way out of the house).

Sometimes my family likes to spend dinner time telling old stories or memories that will eventually be passed down like folk songs. Whenever it's my turn to enchant everyone with my mouth, I end up saying something pointless that lasts about 20 seconds, and makes my tongue tangle up in itself. Either that or I might say something that prompts one of my sisters to branch off my incredible tree rooted with random strings of memories- they make the magic and I watch with wide eyes.

It's not that I don't have impactful memories, I do. Most of the time, though, I will think of something important I want to say and it’ll suddenly slip straight through my mind, like I opened a window in my head and the thought floated right out and nested into the sky.

But while most of my memories are kind of trivial, they each hold a small part of my soul. The same part that makes me grimace when I hear someone singing ‘I Feel Happy’, or smile when I see someone reading ‘Her Royal Highness”. When I combine them all in my mind, they create a fractured mosaic of my personality, my heart, and me.