kimstaana

[kimstaana]

time is a monopoly : memory is a software

"moments later, i was all alone on a highway on pre-new year’s day thinking about what happened and hoping that that was one of those times we both lived in a state of self-regulating amnesia so that we can just forget."

does anybody feel the growing urge to take a trip down memory lane when the new year's approaching? the sudden feeling of going over how you spent the past 365 days of your life? and having void when you sense that you haven’t really taken enough time to fathom your recent memories or at least, grow past them? then, in an instant, you’re taken aback by how far you’re from moving on.

and does anybody ease the intensifying feeling by decluttering? by trying to fill the void in the act of both dumping and hoarding inanimate objects, may it be physical or digital? it can be old photos taken randomly in your memory card, expired negative film rolls you still used but didn’t bother to process, self-burned cds filled with illegally downloaded music and pirated films, hand-written letters from people you no longer talk to anymore, cake boards from your past birthdays, memorable and extremely tiring bus tickets, movie stubs from theaters you almost slept to, cringy high school slam book, and even failing grade school report cards.

i don’t know what got me into this high-functioning yet self-deprecating interest but truth be told, i’m a sentimental hoarder with ironic interest in decluttering. is it the self-reflecting facet? is it the fact that it brushes off the yearning? or is it because it reaffirms the need for a new start? i think it’s somewhere along those lines. i just know that there are times that i find comfort in decluttering anything lying around unused and projecting it as the better way to end the year—a restart to a clean slate.

the annual feeling clings to the overtly overused “new year, new me”, “new year, new beginning”, and “new year, new life” philosophy. surely, it’s about sentimentality but partly, it’s how it consoles the letting go and starts over the loop of life.

“you can't just throw out people the way you throw out things.”, protagonist jean says in nawapol thamrongrattanarit’s 2019 film, happy old year. it may come off as excessively dramatic but that’s how i ended 2021. not the usual decluttering, i was blunt and unfeeling as i throw out almost everything away, disregarding what they used to mean to me. i can reason that it’s because of the great isolation i was forced into that i began to pilot a general cleaning both literally and emotionally.

by the 1st of december last year, i was sorting every item that captured a moment in the past that hit pretty close to home. i knew my memory works as a self-defense mechanism, in its selectiveness, it archives my experiences that are most useful, regardless of them being good or bad that is why i made sure that i’d toss anything like it’s a done deal and that it will all be over if i throw things away already. but you know, sometimes, i feel like a lot of the things that i like to keep are from other people.

by the end of the month of the same year, hours between the 30th and 31st of december, i found myself declaring my love to my college best friend. it wasn’t rushed but it seemed totally abrupt. i’ve been thinking of confessing for the longest time but it was the admission of feelings that would outright stain the friendship that held me back. some people hold some memories dearer than others sometimes. i'm just like that and he's that memory for me. he is knotted to specific places that belong to the past even when it’s already been demolished. he is knotted to a specific time that belongs to the past even when it already happened. a still vivid memory that i’d keep. an intangible place that i’d go to. an irreversible time that i’d relive.

it was a long time coming, i told him i had feelings for him but i’m only doing it to let go of what feels like one-sided baggage i had to carry for a long time already. i don’t spill my guts to anyone and in his case, i felt like i already made it clear through my actions—he was my first confession and hopefully not the last. i told him not to say something or even react, he tried but i could tell he was overwhelmed and i was too devoid of departure.

that night felt like the longest night ever and it felt like we weren’t moving from the time and space that witnessed my confession. as we approach the terminal to call it a night, i didn’t let him come along with me like before, instead, i insisted to walk him up first so he’ll be the first to leave. moments later, i was all alone on a highway on pre-new year’s day thinking about what happened and hoping that that was one of those times we both lived in a state of self-regulating amnesia so that we can just forget.

the impermanence of things that used to remind me of him lets me translate what it means to “forget”—and why it isn’t bad if i still can’t get better while i’m at it. still, it’s not just about the bittersweet revelation that not everyone, even the closest people, can truly yield an ending they want, even if i pretend that that���s the case. it’s also the struggle with decluttering of relationships that we stored together in the things we shared.

sometimes, some things make me realize that moving on by decluttering is more than just throwing away things. it also means confronting the ghosts that come with it. from time to time, the mindless dumping reminds me to rue the day. to remember that a lifetime’s worth of very cluttered memories stands in the way and it’s not always about bypassing the painful parts—sometimes, moving forward requires a lot of attention and absorption.

it’s impossible to go full marie kondo or be out of our minds and just declutter things that don't spark joy anymore—to hurl things away without the slightest sign of hesitation but i felt like i did it that night. on the way home, i felt the inconsiderable regret of actually throwing something out, the heartbreaking reflection of something that cannot be changed. i know our own need to exonerate ourselves from feelings, regardless of the consequences for the other person, can sometimes ultimately be selfish especially when it’s all of a sudden—i’ll admit, my confession to him wasn’t for our friendship, but for my own closure.

oftentimes, i forget people and moments because there’s barely a physical totem to hold on but when sentimentality takes over, it becomes hard for me to let anything go, the least i can do is to remind myself that memories don’t live in things, it’s within me. everything that happened in the past had been recorded somewhere in my head already. after throwing some things, i’m going to remember what i’ve put into the trash bag one way or another anyway.

happy new year, friends!

#nawapol thamrongrattanarit #happy old year #happy new year