--- what is your most painful memory?

I once had an older brother who died of an illness at the age of six. For many years, my mother was unable to escape the shadows of this tragedy. She placed his picture in every corner of the house, and spoke often of every little detail of his life. Though I was also her son, I would never be perfect enough. For a long time, I was an ignored replacement. The boy in the picture was timeless and perfect, but I, here in reality, was a disappointment, full of unacceptable shortcomings.

Because of this, my relationship with my mother was full of tension and unease. Many years later I realized I was constantly trying to please her, striving to approach her standards and become what she liked. I couldn’t even face the real me. This also affected my attitude towards the people around me. I tried to please them just as I tried to please my mother, seeking out security, love and friendship through pleasing people. This is the most painful part of my memories. It led to depression and a pain that lasted for thirty years.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

A pill bottle full of pills.

 
--- What color would you use to describe this memory?

White, an extremely desolate white

--- what is your most painful memory?

About seven or eight years ago, when I found out that my girlfriend’s former boyfriend was diagnosed with HIV, I went to the hospital to get tested. The test results took several months to come back. Those months were a time of fear and pain.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

A bed

--- what color would you use to describe this memory?

Green, deep, dark green, the color of olives

--- What is your most painful memory?

When I was twelve, I was sexually assaulted.

I ran home to tell my mother.

I remember she was ironing clothes at the time.

I told her what happened,

including some details I didn’t want to tell,

what that man had told me,

what he had done to me…

He was an old friend of my parents.

The whole time I was telling her this,

she never stopped ironing clothes,

and never looked up at me.

At the end, she told me,

coldly: sometimes children misunderstand the actions and words of adults.

When it happened, I didn’t feel like I had been hurt,

but many years later I finally realized that

this was my most painful memory.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

An iron

--- What color would you use to describe this memory?

Grey, like the color of dust

--- What is your most painful memory?

Fifteen years ago,

I took my three year old daughter shopping at the mall.

I spotted a pink one piece dress, which I had her try on.

It fit her well, and looked really pretty on her.

So I went to the register about ten meters away to pay for it. She was in front of the mirror, trying out various poses.

She was only out of my sight for two minutes, and I figured that she was still at the mirror.

But after I paid and came back, she was gone.

She had vanished.

I rushed madly through the mall looking for her. All of the mall employees helped me look for her, but I couldn’t find her.

For the first 5 or 6 years, I couldn’t believe it.

I always fantasized that she would suddenly pop out from behind a corner, looking exactly as she did that day.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

 
A small one piece dress with embroidered edges. It’s beautiful.

--- What color would you use to describe this memory?

Pink, the color of that dress.

--- What is your most painful memory?

My most painful memory is a dream I had. I dreamt that my father died, and in that dream, I was full of grief, and I woke up in pain. My father lived with me at the time, and when I woke up, I did something surprising. I walked to the room where my father was sleeping, quietly bent over, and checked to see if he was breathing. I didn’t calm down until I knew he was breathing normally. I wasn’t happy, just calm. I sat there in his room for about half an hour and then left.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

A face.

--- What color would you use to describe this memory?

Blue, like the color of a clear sky.

--- What is your most painful memory?

My father died in a car crash when I was six.

My mother was a homemaker, and we had always lived off of my father’s income. At the time, I had a four year old sister and a two year old brother.

My mother grabbed some luggage and took us to live

at the house of my uncle, my father’s younger brother.

But his wife kicked us out, and we had nowhere to go.

My mother led the three of us as we wandered the streets.

I saw a feather on the street, and I picked it up.

When I did that, my mother ran up to me in a crazed frenzy, snatched the feather out of my hand and threw it on the ground. I cried.
Years later, when I recalled this, I realized that it was a very painful memory.

I will never forget my mother’s face that day, so full of despair.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

A feather.

--- what color would you use to describe this memory?

Yellow, an old, mournful, deep yellow.

--- What is your most painful memory?

My first boyfriend left me for another girl.

It was very painful.

I saw them sitting together in the park, and that girl was leaning in close to him.

I felt like my heart had shattered.

I returned to my dorm room alone, and stared at a bright light bulb deep into the night.

When I finally closed my eyes, I thought I had gone blind.

The next day, my vision had seriously deteriorated.

The eye doctor said he had never seen anything like this in his 20 years of practice.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

 A light bulb.

--- What color would you use to describe this memory?

Green, a yellowish-green shimmering with yellow sparks.

--- What is your most painful memory?

During my college internship,

my teacher asked me to assist him in a surgery.

At first, the surgery was rather relaxed.

My teacher was working with so much ease, and I was full of respect for him.

About halfway through the surgery, the patient’s breathing grew short, and we immediately went into rescue mode.

I saw the patient’s heart stop, and my hands begin to shake.

After what seemed like a century, my teacher dropped his scalpel.

A living, breathing life had ended in a blink of the eye.

It turned out that there isn’t much distance between life and death.

After that, I decided to change my profession.

--- If that memory could be transformed into an object ,what would it be ?

A scalpel

--- What color would you use to describe this memory?

Blue

--- What is your most painful memory?