Memory is an old friend. I welcome it with open arms, but sometimes I push it away and not let it come near.

Most of the time I choose to do the latter. Why? For a girl like me who never wants to forget, why? Why do I bother to make daily diary entries? Why do I choose to update my blog? Why do I spend hours finishing a [somewhat] useless scrapbook? If I don't want memories to come, why do I preserve them?

I don't want to forget. There are many days, many times, that are part of my memories that are close to my heart that I never want to forget: the day I laughed at this joke, the day I went to that place. The time I was depressed, the time I'd never felt so alive. And yet the ones I choose to remember are those that are not really important: dates.

Dates and memories are not really contrasts; they are part of each other, but they can exist without the other. Dates are important to me. I'm somewhat famous in my family for being able to remember such things, and I'd usually come up with "Do you remember that time when...it was on the 12th of May." or "Today last year we were at..." Being able to remember dates is kind of my special ability (which is why I love history), because they are my way of holding on to the past. Dates are just numbers. They are empty.

Memories are not. Memories are the ones that fill dates, that happen in between those numbers, every second, minute, and hour of the day. Memories are different. They do not need dates to exist. All you need to remember are the basics: that you were a kid, that this-and-that happened. No need for useless numbers.

Dates are harder to remember, but I choose them over memories. Why? Because memories are painful - I have never quite learned to let go properly, or to say goodbye, so I choose to let it pass without feeling anything. Days later I will remember where I was and what I was doing (but never what I went through), fall into the new routine, and not relive anything from that date. That's the main reason why I rarely miss anything. Saves me from somewhat unnecessary tears. Once it's gone, it's gone.

Quick. Easy. Painless.

There are some days memory comes to me and, no matter how much I resist, floods over me. Sometimes I take out mementos on impulse. I hate these days, memories are so uncontrollable! That and the feelings they bring: helplessness at not being able to change things, embarrassment or regret for what's been done, sadness for things past.

In short, pain.

Taking a walk down kioku no michi, as my sister calls it, is no hobby of mine. Not my favourite, but I can't help it sometimes. Today I read the blog of an old friend. I was so struck by the fact that two years had passed and so much had happened since then - stuff I tried not to feel - that I wrote my stat on Friendster: "have you ever thought about how far we've come? ang layo na kaya.. two years is a lot, especially in high school."

Hello, memory, old friend.