I can literally walk around my house since my parents are not here, and I can just go and look at everything and let my DMN activate. I can find all the memories and then go into appreciation of every single object, whether it be the books, the food items, the bathroom items, the cleaning items, furniture, many other things. I can do that.
Or I can stay here and listen to ambient music and recall all the memories that I’ve had growing up and the fantasies and imaginations that I used to have years ago.
I can remember all kinds of past moments that felt like they would last forever, but never did, and they randomly appear in my mind (a whole new set of memories every time) in moments like this where I’m listening to ambient in my room all alone with my parents out of the house.
I can look at each item in my personal room and reflect and develop a relationship with it. I can truly enjoy the feeling of the afternoon like I briefly did in the morning at around 10 or so earlier.
I can live a life.
I can truly look at everything around me.
I can be alive.
I can experience the act of writing right now, not the words of before, but the words of today and the person that I am today in the act of writing today.
I can lie down in silence and just look at the ceiling above me. I can just sit there and recall everything. I can feel all the different things that I was back then and all the different ways that I saw the world back then.
I can sit down and disappear.
I can feel the weight of everything staring back at me.
I can say, “I am here” even while thinking about something from over ten years ago, because that past moment was its own “I am here”.
I can see no difference in time. There is no privilege in the passing of time, because the past is not a lesser world and life. There is only the moment in which we are abiding.
The only reason that I can be so honest, vulnerable, and very in-the-moment is that I’ve gotten much closure through my autobiography and journal, which has both amassed a total of over 3.5 million words. It is why I am so like that with this online friend that I made recently, kenva. It is why I can play ambient Roblox games where you just sit down and think nowadays even as a 22-year-old. It is because I have reached that point where I am OK. I can stay here for as long as I like, even while being OK with the fact that everything will go away.
I do not think of the past as some remote bygone thing, but as something still sitting on the same bench. I hold hands with them. I whisper, telling them about everything that happened and that’s still happening. In the end, I am the start and the end.
All those gone, forgotten things. I remember and ensure that I am never too far away from those that continue still to change me as I go along. Ideas, dreams, fantasies, memories, words, hopes, feelings, angers, strifes, happenings, conflicts, mercies, loves, lives. It goes on endlessly, but really, it is not a tiresome linear path. It is just a heap that has been piling, and I am taking the time to pick up and inspect every item, ensuring that I am never too far behind, never too far gone in my head, never too far gone from the moment or into the moment that I forget everything else that is now bygone. I take the time and the moment, and I am accepted by them every time.
It is like I am still there, because there really is no hierarchical or even chronological difference. I am me as much as I am everyone that I am, everything that I am, and everything (as I know it).
Even a text editor is a home, a place in which I’ve written countless stories. The computer, a place in which I’ve created and coded numerous Roblox games with their storiies and worlds.
Written: 2025-08-31T13:14:43+08:00 -> 2025-08-31T13:26:03+08:00
Counterpoint: Media Saturation