pink roses in recession

funny thing memories are. fuzzy in some places, sharp in others, bitter, sweet or both bittersweet, black and white or colored - take your pick-for most memories you get to decide. I guess one thing that makes them funny is how they're relative, just like time... in some places it moves at the speed of lightning in others at the speed of a fungal infection eating away at a corpse stored in a cedar wood closet. In others still time is like a rock waiting to cross the road, no matter how hard you try it just wont budge on its own.
coming back to memories, you can save them however you want, or where ever you want , you can see them, feel them, smell them, taste them, tuck them away in some dark crevice in the recesses of your mind or cherish them through glorification, but heres the catch, that little thing called time inevitably creeps up on them and phases them out for you unless you clench your fists around them, shut your eyes so tightly in the attempt to let nothing seep through you - not even through your eyes- that you begin to see neon spots in the darkness that pursues, your face muscles begin to hurt from the distortion employed in this attempt, your body tenses up and your swollen cheaks feel a cool breeze as your tears dry up. You begin wondering if you lost something along the way and what you remember now is a reflection of reality or merely a tainted version of it - your tainted version of it.
The other kind of memories time doesnt take away for you. These come back with a vengence periodically, stab you in the gut, twist around your insides and leave an open wound, exposing you for what you really are - a sum of your experiences, inviting others to reach in and pull out your insides. Vulnerability its called, quite a mouthful that word is if you ask me, skeptical i am of its use. i dont like it very much when people use it as in excuse for their weakness's, After all what wont kill you only makes you stronger right ? -kill you at least not in the heart-stopped-beating/pumping blood-unable-to-breathe-or-move sort of (biological way) which by the way i believe is the best form of death you;ll EVER encounter. Your strength is an alteration of who you used to be, you behave differently due to this new found strength from this experience that hasnt killed you, different reactions, different responses, different person. So lets go back and say this one more time, what wont kill you biologically will kill you otherwise and make you a different person. i'll let you believe its always for the better to satisfy that undying desire in everyone to imagine things in this cute little positive pink hue.
here i am, with my memory's relativity. thoughts and memories floating in and out of my head without sequence, without structure till i put a hue on them, dress them up and glorify them, write them down and deal with them,with my tainted reality.