author: Jack Shedd
content: 'But I want no part in [photographs]. I don''t want to stare at some photo
  of me at 21 when I''m 50 and contemplate everything I was, or could have been. I
  don''t want to have to drown in partial truths, grasping at a falling memory to
  paint in details. I''d rather either remember, or not. Rather know, or forget. I''d
  rather be able to molt my life as it goes, letting the useless bits drop away as
  the important becomes more dear.


  When I reach backwards into my life, I want to know what I find to have been defining.
  To have been something I couldn''t shake, couldn''t let go of. I want to forget
  the pointless birthday parties, and the group shots at the bars where so-and-so
  is making that face she makes, and I''m half-drunk, and look that''s what''s his
  face that guy who dated whoever that is. I want to reach and find the things I couldn''t
  photograph: the moments I knew, the moments we forgot; the street sign all lit up
  with sun as our car drove towards home; the view of the skyline when I left; the
  dodge balls as they barreled towards me; the way it felt to run in the rain, drunk
  and mad, screeching towards the bar like a five-year old on a sugar high.


  I''d rather be able to forget, so that I can remember.'
id: ae2222f9-985b-4af3-a8df-7b90bc84b1d9