The most memorable day. It seems as if this should have a positive connotation but, bad days flood into my head. Why is it that bad is usually more memorable than good?

The day I was told we were letting my brother go, the day we actually said goodbye, the day my mom moved out, the day my parents told me they were getting a divorce, the day I said goodbye to my grandpa, the day I learned I broke my back, the day I hurt my knee, the day I got my teeth knocked out. All these moments flash through my head at the speed of light. But, I could not tell you what day it was, what I was doing the entire day, or what else good or bad may have happened. The brain has a way of doing that; It clings onto the moments in time where your life changes course. The times when, even if only for a few seconds, the world ceases to spin. I remember those bad memories, moments of pain, moments of suffering, moments of sadness.

Few good memories pop into my head. A slow trickle, but a flood of bad ones come crashing in like a tsunami. It’s the small moments that make up a life. The moments that make up a person. Each, a puzzle piece, added to create the final masterpiece– me. And I wouldn’t be the same without each and every one of those moments. They piece together just right to create a human being, each one shaping me into who I am today.