A short but important note on my sometime perfect, now somewhat fractured, eidetic memory:
I can easily remember what I had for lunch on any precise day three years ago, and I can easily remember what I was wearing at the time. I can remember at exactly what time I had that lunch, too. I can remember the lyrics to songs by Busted. Which, to clarify, I heard once on the radio and would probably not choose to remember if given the option. Indeed, I can remember
lots and lots of random things. But I can't remember faces, you see. That is, I
can recognise them on viewing; I know who people are when I see them. But I
can't put a picture of them together in my head, I can't remember them after
they're gone. I can look at someone, shut my eyes, and not know what they look
like. I leave the room, and they're not even a memory.
And that's not all, either; not by a long shot. On the whole, you can't imagine how
harrowing my life has been. I can't tell you what a sunset looks like. I can't
imagine the shape of a bird. I mean, I can tell you the names of every single
bird under the sky if you'd like to hear them, and I can tell you to what genus
they each belong. But I can't tell you anything about how seeing those birds or that
sky might have made me feel. I can see photographs that I have taken, and I can
remember the second of the minute of the day when I took the picture – but turn
the picture around and suddenly I cannot describe it beyond a blank.
So, yeah.
It hasn't been so good. Not to put too fine a point on it, in fact, it has been
fairly bad. I have been, in every meaningful sense, irrevocably lost.
But then, and this is absolutely a true story, I met you, and everything changed for me.
Seriously, my life changed. Suddenly, the blank spaces in my memory were all
excused. Suddenly, not being able to remember faces didn't really seem so bad. No, it
didn't seem so bad at all. Because, and I'm just going to come out and say
this, your face is really, really ugly.
Now, I may not be able to remember what breakfast looked like this morning, but frankly,
that’s a small price to pay if I can also forget your horrible, horrible face.
And hey, if I should chance to see you again later, well, I guess I'll also get
another chance to see what that breakfast looked like.
Because I'll have
vomited, you understand. Because, in case this wasn't clear, you're very ugly.
Notes: Okay, fine, it's a joke. Are you happy now? Are you?