They say that our experiences is the mirror of our knowledge. We all have stories to tell, stories that make us feel proud, stories that reveal our bad past and how we managed to change it. We can experience every kind of stories we hear, and the knowledge we spread is pretty much affected by all those experiences we have had in our lives. We learn, we make mistakes, we help others and we even destroy others. But we also forget. We forget some experiences we have had, some worlds we have lived in, some passions we have felt. Those are our unwritten stories. The stories we never wrote down to remember and recount them... or the stories we once decided to erase. The day I started writing was a great day for me, it was the beggining of my unique story. A story that helped me create a great bond with something few people recognise. Writing helps me stare at myself like a usual mirror does, but this mirror doesn't reveal my face, but my inner self- even some of the hidden thoughts and emotions of mine that nor me nor anyone else recognises. In the old days, I only used to look at mirrors just to check if my hair looks good or if my clothes are a good pair. Now, things are more complicated. I can now look at myself and recognise all those actions in the past that piece by piece created the present me. Although it sounds nice, there are times when I feel this "power" being an unecessery burden. It reveals memories of the past, memories that were nicely closed up in deepest shadows of my memory. And then, when i open those chests, I remember tales of mine I left unwritten. Tales and stories. Some of which I avoided to absorb their lesson, and some which I never wished to think about again. Nonetheless, after all this time, I feel a special sympathy for those stories. And I'm not referring only to my own forgotten stories. But to all those stories each of us has locked inside a forgotten chest of his memory, while they could be in the edge of their mouth as recounting them to others. Those stories, and every single experience in our life, has its own unique gifts to offer. But since we decided to forget them, they are all gone and missing. However, even though I consider some memories forgotten and lost inside my mind's shadows, there are moments were I speak out words forged by knowledge and experiences that I never remember my self wielding. Isn't that wonderful? Isn't that unique? Those memories are hidden inside us, and even though we have placed them aside and forgot them, they are always there to spare their wisdom when needed. Sometimes, we might think that we are just recounting to people our life's great story or a unique experience of ours, but this great story will always be accompanied by other suplamentary stories that slipped away from our attention, but they continue offering us their wisdom and the knowledge to forge our own experiences and lessons in life. Yet, we don't remember those stories, but only the great ones. There are times I can imagine myself unlocking some forgotten chests in my memory to reveal their content, but it is usually rotten and half-left. "You came back too late", I remind myself in these situations, so that one day I will be able to apreciate every single of my memories and keep them in my memory. I'll make the decision to travel in time, and visit an old castle which is now nothing but ruins. It was probably raided by an army and people wrote stories for this war, or maybe it was just forgetten and Death took it by his side as if it is an old man. I walk inside, I can imagine the people walking here and there to complete their daily tasks. I see some elves and sorcerers! Maybe it was a castle of another world. "Excuse me there boy, where do I park my dragon?", I heard an old man saying. "In the dragon stable, sir", the boy replied. In the market there was this sorcerer buying his potions, while the knight sharpened his sword to fight the next monster. The princess would be the prize. So many tales in just a few moments. Those small moments were the ones to forge this great castle piece by piece, and without them there would be no great battle to be written in books. Yet, those small moments are all forgetten since the castle has been ruins. All you see now is ashes, cracked stones and... a light, a hope. The water in the creeks begins to glow thanks to the sun's rays that come through the broken windows. And then, you see some shadows, I swear they were dancing some wonderful, distinct dance, like those creatures in the castle centuries ago, as if they have never been forgotten.
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