Mid Twenties Crisis

I wonder if everyone has memory loss the way I do. My mind is selective in a very emotional way. The memories that I keep are vivid and strange. They are attached to the important ones, but the past that I want is left hanging on to these mundane glimpses, like skeletons wearing plastic grandma beads instead of precious jewels. My thoughts are archived with little tags, date, time, place, length, of relationship. The older they are the further they drift down a hallway. I squint at my sand pies I made at age seven wishing they were just a few inches closer. Where does this tunnel lead? The light at the end of the tunnel may be death creeping up on me as my back is turned. At age 60 it will tap me on one shoulder while hiding behind the other to get a good chuckle. Only I don't find it funny in the least. Or maybe it is an accumulation of my mistakes waiting to smack me in the back of the head. Though the last one is doubtful, because it would have hit me by now. If only my memories would upload on utube, like everything else in existence. Listening to Built to Spill lyrics has given no result.  Deep meditation has opened no trap door. I am left staring into a mental archive filled with photographs of  my life. Waiving my hand frantically hoping there is such a thing as a self Jedi mind trick. In reality, I am only a girl sitting on her office floor grappling for holds in a her past to avoid a future adult status with so many questionable ends.