Some people collect fridge magnets.
I collect old texts and half-finished arguments.

I have a habit of never deleting things (whether literally from a phone, or from my memory).

Old texts, voice notes, compliments, letters, messages that made me smile or frown- they’re all tucked away somewhere. As someone with the memory of a goldfish on espresso, I may not remember people’s names or faces or birthdays, but I’ll always remember the things they’ve said- little windows into their personalities.

It’s strange how a single dialogue can hold so much sentiment and a person’s character. The way someone texts- in abbreviations or full words, in a deluge of messages or a singular, winding paragraph- speaks a lot about their disposition.

Exhibit A: The compliment I received from two guys from my class for my first performance onstage at school.

I remember most of such compliments given to me, whether declared or whispered faintly. I can’t bring myself to erase these old conversations or chats- evidence that life is full of small kindnesses.

All the same, my mind refuses to erase the insults, arguments, and second-hand comments from years and years ago. And the hurtful words stick the longest- the ones that incise their memory onto you.

Exhibit B: A comment made by one of my friends back in third grade- “You talk too much”. Four words that have never and can never leave my mind, no matter how small and insignificant.

And, of course, the words spoken by the people I love. Little linguistic footprints- soft declarations of love, a little bit of poetry, and reciting movie dialogues from memory with pantomimes. They’re like flowers pressed within the pages of a book; the fragrance may have faded, but the colour and sentiment stays intact.

So, yes, I keep old conversations- spoken, written, uttered aloud, mumbled half-asleep, texted. Because when the memory of someone’s face fades, their words stay loyal.

After all, words age better than people anyway…

Yours truly,
Divi