A Place I Want To Forget Essay

Memories have always been priceless and cannot be bought. These priceless items tend to stay as one in the human mind. Memories are powerful feelings that help one through tough times. One will never forget the memories closest to the heart. The poem “Forgetfulness” by Billy Collins describes memories that are slowly fading away, whereas in “Once More to the Lake” E.B. White presents a man that relives his memories through his son. Both well-written texts develop a common theme of memory through syntax, diction and rhetorical devices.

We don’t forget the memories we want to remember. We forget the ones that were too painful. Beloved was murdered. It was not a peaceful death and Sethe knew this. Her daughter's

Some things you forget. Other things you never do. But it's not. Places, places are still there. If a house burns down, it's gone, but the place-the picture of it-stays, and not just in my rememory, but out there, in the world” she continues on by saying that other people can see it as well.

The thick bushes with their leathery green leaves, and twisting branches, were a tangled growth well over the height of her head. She had moved halfway up on a mountainside. Now, the ravine the creek was in was narrow, and steep all the way down to the water. It was very hard to see any distance ahead of her while walking in the heavy cover. She was following some sort of game trail that skirted the side of the mountain but away from the openness of the stream. She turned a corner and started down a gradual slope when something dark caught her eyes on the trail ahead. It was two black bear cubs rolling around and wrestling with each other. She stood and watched their comical antics and couldn't help but chuckle at how much they looked like little children who teased and poked and chased each other in play. One cub would wrap its arm around the other's neck and chew on its ear. Then the victim would break away and circle right back to jump on the back of its sibling. All thoughts left her mind for a few moments as she saw them play in their wild home. She had never been so close to animals like this before and was riveted in place by fascination. Then Christopher got restless, cried aloud, and suddenly both cubs stopped playing and looked towards her. When they saw her standing there, they became alarmed and separated. Each one ran up a separate tree by the path. Once in the trees they looked her way and then bawled loudly. It was a noise that sounded like a deep "Maaww,

In a small village in the Philippines lives a small girl by the name of Kim. Kim is 8 years old but she acts older. She loves to explore the jungle surrounding her village on the Bataan Peninsula. Kim is attracted to the chirping sounds of the birds and the rustling of animals. She can sit for hours just absorbing the sounds around her. When she explores she finds and collects small tokens that were dropped and forgotten in the forest. The one she loves the most is an old beat up stuffed monkey. Kim really loves monkeys and animals in general. One day she’s going to become an animal doctor.

Her name was Irma. I looked all around for Irma. But I couldn’t find her anywhere. I thought maybe that she escaped. Part of me was glad. When an animal is mean to you, you want that animal gone. Out of your life. But Irma wasn’t lost she was hiding behind the little house they were supposed to go in when it rain. Irma was hiding from me waiting to pounce on me when I brought the food into them. Banged on the fence at her and told her she had to come out from behind there or else I wasn’t going to feed her today. She finally comes out of that hiding place of hers and walked over toward the fence. I went in to feed them, but when I turned my back, she kicked me and I fell over in the mud and bird

Her name is Cindy, Samantha Rose, I see her every week at the hospital I volunteer at. I walk past her on my way to the cafeteria, four times a week when I work as a chef. Cindy sits at the end of the waiting room in a corner by herself, people feel afraid of her, her dark clothes and spiked boots scare other people in the waiting room. When I look at her, all I see is a sweet little girl that's hiding from the cruelty this world holds. A couple of days ago I heard some nurses gossiping about her. I eavesdropped on them--the only humane thing to do. The nurses were talking about Cindy’s medical history. They spoke softly, trying to keep her files confidential. From then on I now know that since the age of thirteen Cindy has been fighting against depression and anorexia.

I thought back to that night, I had been trying to forget it, forget her, but that was impossible.

You remember things that other people don't. Like the day someone blew up City Hall, and the very next morning it was like it had never happened. No one else recalled it, despite the rubble and the 'Under Construction' signs where it used to stand. A few spoke of watching the wrecking ball take out the old stone building, excited to see what they built in its place. But no one else remembered the smoke and dust and red-orange flames reaching for the sky. It was like the event was erased completely. Things like that happened all the time, but no one ever remembered. And the times you made the mistake of speaking up, of questioning it, you were sent to the school therapist who told you it was just a dream and prescribed pills that left you in a fog for days and made those memories fade into fuzzy dream-like recollections. You don't bring it up to other people anymore.

A wise person once said that the memories may fade away with passing time but the love we share will only grow. Some hateful people would say that not caring is a key to success, and that they can get through everything without their loved ones. This true at some times, but to not have help when you can't remember sent going to help you at all.“Forgotten” is a must-read tale that teaches a valuable life lesson through conflict that holds true even for today’s teenager: memory may fade, but love is forever.

This place is like a trigger that makes he recalls and question about himself and it brings the past back to him. Even though the place brings his past,

“I keep forgetting things” – you may have said this quite often. Remembering where you left the car keys, or recalling your former colleague’s name might be difficult for you. Your friend delivered a baby, but as you break the news to your partner you forget whether the baby is a girl or a boy. Wondering whether you have dementia? Well, it can’t be dementia. Forgetting is normal. People keep forgetting things because of various other reasons. It is not always dementia. Our brain has a unique way of storing and retrieving memories. And any interference in the whole process may lead you to forget things. Here are a few reasons why you forget.

Just north of Chillicothe, Ohio, the land changes from flat, black-soil farmland to rolling, coal-filled hills. The place becomes increasingly familiar to me—the green sign for Jesus In the Hills Camp, the brown sign for Leo Petroglyph, friends and relative 's homes—and as I navigate the slopes and curves that lead me back to my childhood home in Jackson, a pleasant nostalgia begins to take some of the tension out of the muscles around my neck and shoulders. After a decade of twisting and contorting myself into an unsuitable life in Christian ministry, I began to write and my attention turned back to my home, to that familiar landscape. I found the beauty in the cultural distinctiveness once taken for granted, even held in contempt. I had been fed, clothed and educated by money made from mining coal, and I am the product of a family that valued work and the love of the written word as a conduit for understanding and contextualizing our place in the world. And so, this is what I write about, the place and the people I know.

These memories haunt me every waking moment of my life…and sometimes follow me into the land of dreams. As if watching them constantly replay in my head during the day isn’t enough! Sometimes they are nothing more than a fragment; a single word, hateful eyes boring holes into the back of my head, mouths moving languidly behind flattened palms. And other times, I replay entire scenes in my head, reliving those moments that still, after all this time, bring me to my knees.

Once upon a time, there was a wealthy young woman. She loved to shop and enjoyed using her dad's money on the most lavish, opulent brands. Her name was Dora, named after the cartoon in which one can learn Spanish. As a child, she loved animals and the company they provided. Dora walked for hours all over the city of New York to find the animal that she needed to be complete... She went home everyday sad unable to find the pet of her dreams. Sometime later, she saw a store named, “Laden's Pet Palace.” The second she walked in the scent of fresh a bleach-filled her nostrils. The scent froze her at the door.