Hateball

Revisionist: A Manifesto


I‘m pretty sure we‘re not here.

Is it so strange to suggest—to think—that we‘re just what we remember? What maybe even someone else remembers about us?

And what if that someone—whether it‘s us or you or me or nobody or everybody—decided to remember us differently? What if they got us wrong? What then? Would we be someone else?

Would we still be us?

I‘m pretty sure we‘re what we can remember about ourselves. And that‘s it. If we forget it, it‘s gone. If we all forget it, it never was. And if we all forget all of it all at the same time, was not was and is not is. No start or end or any in-between. Just none. Un, even.

But what about just taking those memories—those things that happened at some point before now—and just changing them a bit. Imagining a more convenient or pleasing arrangement of details. Moving the needle—even just slightly!—to make the story different. And in so doing, change who we are.

You revise yourself every day. You change who you are. What you do. What you think and say. So why not change things around you? Why not look for things that make you who you are—memories you‘ve sewn into the autobiography you tell yourself—and make them more to your liking?

No one will know. Not even you. Remember yourself however you choose to remember yourself. Remember things, people, places, things however you choose to remember them...anything else will simply be forgotten.

Which means it never was in the first place.

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