Chapter Thirty-One
High the Memory - Des Vu Revisited
Once you are sufficiently cynical and broken, having
undergone over the long course of life significant transformation from that
hopeful and optimistic youngster to a tired and weary realist, wracked by
regret, guilt, and shame; only then, can you experience memory as the painful psychic
attack it truly is.
I’ve already talked about Des Vu, those poignant and
powerful moments when the looking forward of the younger person seems for a
moment to meet with the looking back of their elder self.
In its most extreme form, the elder finds themselves in
the point of view of their younger selves, fully immersed in that moment, while
the younger version finds themselves inhabiting the life of the future. This produces an extreme longing and
existential regret in the consciousness, and simultaneously, a deep feeling of
disappointment over failure to reach one’s dreams, and a taste of the call
towards oblivion. It eats you up. And the more bad shit you’ve done, the more
it hurts. And, if you’re a fucking
supervillain, you’ve probably done a lot of bad shit. God knows I have.
And in every nanosecond you are your young, recently
married self, relaxing with your new wife without a care in the world smoking
pot and watching Saturday morning cartoons, and then you’re in the time where
you left her twenty years later because you couldn’t handle how crazy she was
getting, and she killed herself. You
feel that despair, confusion, loss, denial, guilt, over and over, as you’ve
reconnected with the strong bond you had just long enough to bring out fresh regrets
and pain.
Looking back, you find that you let everyone you every
loved down, time and time again. And it
fucking stabs at you. Over and over
again.
It fucks you up.
(c) Copyright 2020 by Diana Hignutt
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