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dialogue 2 - sitting in front of me If I can’t remember...

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My mind is in a white room. There is no door, windows, or other flashy distractions. My feelings are dependent on my perceptions of my surroundings. In this white room, it is controlled. The temperature, outside distractions, material things are all removed. My mind feels nothing. But am I feeling nothing or am I surrounded by nothing? I must constantly be surrounded by something, even if it is bland. My mind is a holding place for experiences I’ve had throughout my life. As I grow older, memories fade. They become a blur. I find myself questioning the details of my past. When I gather around the dinner table with my family, we try to recollect our vacation to Italy. My mother asks if we remember how the all of the food and the tomatoes had a sweet taste to them. I specifically remember the manicotti tasting different, but I can’t remember if it was sweet taste or a less salty version of the American manicotti I have
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Unformatted text preview: sitting in front of me. If I can’t remember the taste of something, but my mother can, is her memory always accurate? Do I simply go along with what she is thinking and believe it to be my own? Or are all of my memories just fed from other people’s experiences when there is a gap in my own memory? The “me” that answers is a reflection of many different experiences accumulated over my life. All of my memories are experiences learned that form my thought processes. But what about these events that someone else may remember about me that I cannot remember? Does this make me less of a Michelle or is it simply another false memory of another false memory? I am the same Michelle in the sense of my mind. My mind has not been replaced, it is simply renewed with a constant slew of memories. Each memory in my past has shaped how I perceive things today....
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