There are a lot of memories that are suitable answers for this questions, so it's hard to pick out a favorite. It's not so much the memory, in most cases, that really gets me, that grabs me and makes me linger for a moment, like staring for a split second too long at a bulletin board in an empty high school hallway, something that takes you aback and stops you. It's the feeling you get when you see the memory again for the second time, the third time, the fourth, the fifth. It's the feeling that makes the memory, almost like synesthesia.

Sometimes, I wish I could map out my life in the stars. Sit somewhere, remote, desolate, alone and just watch them-each flicker, each shimmer-glistening in the night sky, a piece of me, a memory.

That's a loaded question, like a handgun, a bullet to the head kind of loaded. Maybe a better question to ask is "What part of life doesn't confuse you?" Everything about life confuses me. I'm part pessimist, part optimist, I'm scared of scary movies and I laugh at comedies. I'm young and naive, but I'm getting too old to pull that excuse. I'm impervious to pain because I can just laugh it off, but then again, I'm just in denial. Or, I've never really felt pain. What part of life isn't supposed to confuse you? I'm scared of anyone who isn't confused by life. I'm scared of people who are certain, who aren't lost or wandering. Maybe scared isn't the right word, but I'm not jealous of them either. There's a finality, a conclusiveness in their lives, in their understanding of life that, frankly, just irks me. You aren't open to the confusion. You can't taste panic and fright and lose yourself. What's the point of living if you don't lose control every once in a while?