Stop falling.

When I was little my Nan used to comb my hair. It was always a battle, something I loathed with a passion. You see my hair is long, destined to be a tangle. She used to attack me with the comb and rip chunks out at a time.

Today I bought a comb, It’s the first time since I was little. I’ve sat pulling it through my hair for hours. One side silky smooth, thats just the way it is. The other side fizzy, thicker than the other.

This again isn’t relevant.
But is in a way?

This year I am doing Psychology. We are learning about memories.
Isn’t it funny how you recall memories all the time.
That memory just from looking at a comb.

As I look around this room at various objects I start to test myself with memories.

A dress in my cupboard I wore to my recently passed birthday, a country road bag my cousin bought for my birthday a bag everyone now has, a picture of my pop and nan so many happy times together, dance trophies that time I didn’t quite get my skirt off in time, notes on the back of my door from Leti how she made me laugh..

It goes on.

What triggers memories.
When I think of memories I always think of the same few.

My first Nokia phone, with snake in year eight.
How I used to shave my legs behind my Mum’s back.
6 months.

Three unexplained, unconnected memories?

wtf.

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