The Closet

I don't know if I'm alone in this, but I've got a closet in my brain where I safely store all those memories I'd rather forget. Normally they stay where they are put, and the happy memories are the only ones that come to mind. It's kinda like the out of sight, out of mind idea...those "black" memories are locked in my little closet and there they stay. Occasionally however an experience, a sight, a sound, a smell, anything really, becomes a key and the closet door opens for a second and a memory escapes. Sometimes that memory is welcomed back into the storage of "good" memories, and other times it is returned to it's rightful place in the closet.

For some reason lately, my little close door does not want to stay closed for very long. At times I think I am almost glad that (some of) these memories are coming back. I had no idea some of them had been stored there, and (some of them) don't seem as bad as they used to. I guess that is part of growing up. The old monsters under the bed disappear, and with that comes new ones hiding somewhere completely different. I have noticed though, that it is never really a conscious decision to no longer be terrified of the "purple people eater lurking in the closet," it just happens that one day he doesn't seem so scary. 

Is it just fear of the unknown that keeps these memories contained? Sometimes I think it is, and other times I wonder...