a thousand ways

i'm scrambling for ways to remember things i hope i will never forget. pictures of the insides of restaurants, nights that exist only in photo albums, ticket stubs, stains on shirts, every little detail that could bring back a barrage of good, bad, and in between times. and as i stand in the in-between of my own life, on foot in my youth and the other in the ever-elusive "real world," i can't help but wonder about when i will look back on these days and what my constantly-expanding mind will think of me. the sky is falling outside, thick fat raindrops that seem to never stop coming down. the thunder rolls as if to growl at me and say, get out of your pajamas, wash your hair and get on with your life. everything i have written, i have thought or said many times before, and still i can't seem to stop writing, as if the frantic staccato of my fingers on the keyboard will brand these memories into the binary of my mind. i never want to forget, but how can i stand to remember?