白色過去

. . .Ah, too much drama for one lifetime. And yet, not enough. I've always prided myself on my superior memory -- the ability to conciously recollect events that happened in my life as early as the tender age of 2. And no, these memories weren't synthesized; my parents were really, really, really, really sorry and mortified that I remembered some of the things that I did. (Sufficed to say, the memories weren't all comical and/or happy.) As such, I've always wondered about those characters from TV series or movies who have hidden pasts and can't seem to recall a person or event too clearly. It always seemed painfully obvious to us, as the audience, but to truely have no memory of a past event or person...
. . .Well, it finally happened to me. Not to the severe degree of, "What!?!? You've known me all my life!? Who're you?!" But rather, it severely altered my view on my past. You see, up until highschool, I didn't really know how to interact with people; I was acutely introverted. Some might even say I was depressed. In any case, I figured that I was just simply never one to express emotion; I figured that I was quite a freaky child who never cried or smiled, and that I only much later in life learned to express emotion. But then, I dug up some old photos of ages past, of me before I was in gr. 3. And I was smiling! And apparently, I was quite the joker -- I had quite a variety of expressions as well. Which sorta hit me like a strong, violent gust of wind.
. . .Of course, this only begged the question: when/why did I lose this open expression of emotion? When and why did I decide to detach myself from my feelings and become an expressionless idiot? Then it hit me. Geoffrey's death apparently had hit me harder than I thought. In fact, so much so that it took me 11 years to realize it.
. . .And if you know my age (which most of you should), this would imply that Geoffrey's death must have happened in my childhood. The thing is, even though I wasn't socially accepted in those years either, it didn't yet stop me from trying. And in grade 3, Geoffrey was both my only and best friend. And even then, he wasn't the best friend in the world; he was only my friend every other day, since he pretty much was under the dictation of his older sister (gr. 5 at the time, I think), who didn't like me, and would tell him when to be nice and when to be not-so-nice to me. Yes, such complications at such a young age... ... but I guess that's what happens when a woman get's involved. Anyways, he sorta... died... apparently, (at least, the way it was explained to us) a vein in his brain popped, and he just sorta faded away in the hospital. The other children accused me of not caring because I didn't cry. And as hard as I tried, the tears simply wouldn't come forth. I was bewildered. Now, I suspect that that was the turning point in my life when I decided to abandon emotion for logic. And I didn't pick it up again 'til much, much later. (Around gr. 8, I think.)
. . .Yah, this is a pretty grim entry, but one I thought I had to get out in the open. And for those who're reading, I'm sure this'll explain a lot. And while this is one big topic of my life, it is but merely the tip of the iceburg. Not to say that all things in my life were sad, just that significant events were plentiful. ^_^ Well, I'd best get started packing; I'm flying for Taiwan in less than 24 hours.