I have this terrible habit of overthinking the past. I take each memory, scrutinize it in my head, turning it over a like a coin between my fingers. I wonder if my memories are as real and just to the truth, as they feel to me. I wonder if there are details that I have chosen to brush over. Or if I have glossed over things that were normally lackluster. I wonder if my mind plays tricks, deludes me into seeing things my way, for better or for worse. What if there is no 'absolute truth'? What if what we remember becomes our truth, despite being far from reality? What if our memories are nothing but a version of the truth that we choose to believe?
