All memories of mine are tiny fragments that form me as a person. Memory is our past, present, and even future at some point. To know who I am as a person, I also need to have an idea of who I have been. I store both good and bad memories as those both give me a great life experience. I see myself as an explorer, a curious human being whose behavior is shaped by a lot of actions and mistakes made in the past. My remembered life story guides my future and influences me making everyday decisions. Without memory I would lose a basic connection with who I am.

It’s both interesting and fascinating how I can easily go back in time by finding a particular memory inside my mind. It is somehow possible to reconstruct the moment in some of its detail and relive it from the inside. I can go back there any time which means memories make me a time traveller. My memories are mental reconstructions, various collages of events, of how things were, that are shaped by how things are at the moment. There are certainly some tricks that happen to my memories from time to time; one of them is re remembering. When I think back to my first day at elementary school, I don’t mind that much about the details, they change over time. The stories I get out of my memories can become a fiction, and at the same time it is my fiction. Memory works this way; it makes a storyteller of me.