The worst part of memory is its selectiveness. I can remember, in excruciating detail, every embarrassing moment, every incidence of social awkwardness, every chance I should have taken but didn’t, every blunder or pratfall, every mistake on an important exam, every poorly written paper, every taunt hurled at me, and every dressing down I ever received. I wish I could say that I remember all the successes and great things in my life just as vividly, but it simply is not true.

From what I gather, the way my mind works is entirely normal. I wonder if all it takes to remember all the winning moments in life just as well as the embarrassing ones is to make the effort to do so. For some reason—human nature, I always figured—it feels much harder to celebrate the wins than to mull over the losses.