Death of the Memories

My memory is terrible. I'm glad I write these little posts but I bet you anything that one day, I'm not going to remember these.
I'm working on my paper for Comm and one of the paragraphs is about my senior year of high school. I remember approximately four classes. I can't remember the rest of my schedule. I don't remember the room numbers or even half the rooms I was in. I have a vague idea of where my locker was.
Here's what I do remember...the green room at the theater, the handbag I carried, the cover of my assignment book, a handful of people at best, Finnegan's beard, getting a criticism on a paper I wrote, curly fries, and the invasion of the blazers.
See, it's not so bad. Just fuzzy in some parts. Blurry in others. "Scene Missing" in many.
If high school had been this amazing time in my life, I would be disappointed. But it wasn't. School has never been an amazing time for me. It's always been something I had to accomplish to get to the next space on the game of life board. Right now, it's very good but talk to me next year when senioritis strikes again.
The really bad thing is lately I've been forgetting the past as well as the present. I've been zoning in and out of speeches/conversations like crazy. Even when I'm talking, I'm not listening to myself. I'm stepping outside of myself and watching from a distance. Even then I forget to watch myself.
It's extremely bizarre. Don't think I'm not aware of that.
For a short while now, I've been looking at myself as a person and wondering What are you doing? Everyday I have at least ten thousand things to do, filling my days and nights up full until we get to The End, the sleeping point.
Everyday I look at these ten thousand things and know they are unavoidable. They are my life. They have to be done.
In some cases, I just go through the motions which makes me feel robotic and dull. I don't get a whole lot of free time which frustrates me and makes me happy in an odd way. Sometimes I don't like to go out because I have to perform. Gotta be on, all the time. Most of the time, I love being with my stories and the words. It appears lonely to some but I am never lonely. Agatha Christie had people in her head that she visited when she was bored. Likewise for me.
So...what am I doing?
I don't know. And even the most put-together on track person in the world probably has no idea what they're doing either.

Love to you all,
Heather