Fragments of memories come back in flashbacks as I lay in bed at night.

Pictures of happiness and hurt.

Joy and pain. 

Love and loss.

The good and the bad. 

I lie here crying and laughing at the same time in a strange mix.

Every good memory has a bad counterpart.

The good times were sweet as the bad were sour.

The memories twist and intermingle into a jumbled mess that takes over my mind and causes everlasting insomnia.

My thoughts are too loud, the memories standing center stage in the spotlight talking all at once, saying,

"See me! Listen to me! Remember! Remember! Remember!"

Instead of a straight line single file,

My memories all fight for my utmost attention.

They're rude, like little children fighting for the front of the line at the playground.

I give up on trying to calm them.

I give myself over and sink into the past.