Past, But Not Forgotten

Somewhere buried deep inside my subconscious mind is a memory. An imprint of what was and the dream of what could have been. The voices still echo clearly, the past not quite so long forgotten, and something rekindles the spark of memory. This memory is of a boy and a girl. The image of the boy is blurred and out of focus, the edges not quite as sharp as they once were. He's been out of the picture for a while, and the recollection is not sure what to do with a memory the mind has tried so hard to forget. The memory would be a happy one if I didn't know of the memories to follow. The tears have eaten away at some of the joy. The memory has been stored in one of the deepest compartments of my heart and my head, behind many locked doors. Like a dusty keepsake on the shelf. Out of sight, out of mind, and in this case off limits. But for some reason the dust has been cleared off, I've been sorting through the memories. And memories, unlike keepsakes, cannot be discarded forever. No matter how far down you suppress them, or how high you've put them out of reach, at one time or another they will be revisited. They will always be there, and that's the beauty of it. Our own personal collections of pictures and home videos that capture the memorable moments in our lives. Full of secrets that no one else will ever know, and that we ourselves cannot validly express with any proof or reason. Sometimes I wonder how my memory of a moment might differ from someone else's. The girl from the memory can still remember most things clearly, can the boy remember it at all? If he dug it all up, would it look the same? And does it even matter, seeing as it's just a memory?