More memoir stretching.

So, I'm still working on my memoir. People keep asking me to read it, but it's not done yet. Especially after it was workshopped/critiqued by my class, I'm in the process of making a lot of changes.

One of the main things my classmates had trouble finding was the cause for the change. And, even though I've been making some breakthroughs since my emotional breakdown, what has been frustrating me is that I've been searching through this vague cloud of "I don't remembers" and "I don't knows" for finding that cause. I wanted to leave it at that, at the idea that I couldn't pinpoint any kind of reason because I just assume it was a process. But I needed some kind of scene to show that it was a process.

And I was reaching back into my old files of memories in my mind, still searching for answers to help me make sense of it all.

And I found it. It was tucked under a lot of old memories I didn't really care to remember, even though it was really important. And I know why.

It's because it's stupid. So stupid. Really, it's stupidest thing ever. No joke.

And now I have to write about it in my memoir, because it's a pivotal part of tying everything together. Now I'm not frustrated that I can't figure out what I've been missing. Now I'm frustrated that I have to write about what I found.

I know, I know, this all sounds very vague and mysterious. Maybe I'll explain one day. Or you'll just have to read my stupid memoir that's taking me forever to write.