Remembering What was Never Remembered

Sometimes I feel trapped. Trapped in a moment of indecision. It reminds me of a character in a book, feelings induced by words on a page, fodder for the imagination. Some of my strongest memories are not memories at all, or at least they are not my own memories. They are images and sentiments recalled only from words I have read or words I have written. I try to recall the memory, to flesh out the feeling in my mind, only to discover that it never truly existed, therefore it can never be fully felt; it can never be a completely realized thought. At times it is almost disappointing. I love that moment when I am about to remember something. On the brink of recalling a forgotten memory, I pause, physically and mentally, waiting for the familiar feeling of recognition, the understanding that follows my remembrance. When it never comes, it's like waiting for a beautiful promise to be fulfilled only to come to understand that it will never happen, that it never can happen. I cannot truly remember something when it was never mine to remember.