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.