As has been illustrated in scientific journals, such as this paper, our memory is fallible. What we believe we remember may be a reconstruction from the bits and pieces that we actually remember. It’s as if the story happened the last way it was remembered, not necessarily how it actually happened. Here’s something that I wrote.

I have voices in my head
Telling me everything I've done
And everything I've said
Yes, I'm probably the one.
Time distorts like a filter
Memories become like dreams
Your past is an illusion
Or that's how it seems.
From what we remember
Come grudges and hate
And it's what we remember
That lets us relate.
But our minds are not right
Our memory isn't perfect
When on comes a light
We're scratching the surface;
We may imagine the middle
Or fill in the ends
Memories of being little
with your family and friends.

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