Perfect Memory

And I'll remember you
And the things that we use to do
And the things we use to say
I'll remember you that way
- “Perfect Memory,” Remy Zero

Do you ever get the feeling that you’ve done something before? Like deja vu, only subtly different... Like, it’s not the synapses in your brain, but just... you. Well, you and something a whole lot bigger than anything mortal.

I have this friend.. I guess that’s what you’d call a lover who you’d keep talking to even if you weren’t fucking. I have to admit, I took a real shine to him from the moment I saw him. Anyway, when he was fourteen or fifteen, he was doing a lot of acid. He says that when his joints pop, now, he gets a little hit of the residual acid. I’ve heard of that, I guess.

And I know what he’s talking about. Little things, the simplest things, send small shocks of recognition through me. The blackness of my lover’s eyes - they’re just these deep, dark, gorgeous bits of... whatever tha black stone is, like nothing human I’ve ever seen before... I could get lost in them - or the cracking of my own joints. I guess I’ve been boxing long enough that it’s only natural that every joint would crack, but, still... It feels familiar. Hardly anything phases me anymore, ‘cause there’s alway this little feeling of, Hey I know this...

Sometimes, it’s a sort of lonely feeling. Like, Am I the only one who remembers? I don’t know what exactly what it is I’m remembering, really... Sometimes there are flashes of people - of clothes, or eyes, or hair, or voices, at any rate. Sometimes I just feel like things were meant to happen, and have been happening over and over again since, like, the beginning of time.

I asked him - my friend, lover, housemate, whatever - if he ever feels that way. And, surprisingly enough, he said yeah.

That’s part of the reason I like you so much, I think, he said. He shrugged, tossing his glossy black hair over one shoulder. It’s grown out - he let it grow out. It used to be short, choppy, now, years since then, it’s almost to his hips. It’s like... Well, whatever.

No, what? I pressed. I was sort of excited to hear that someone else knew how I felt... That - he felt the same way about me that I did about him.

Well, you know. Sorta like deja vu, but not exactly. You know?

I nodded, knowing exactly. Like you remember me?

Yeah, I guess so, he said. He ran a hand over my head, starting at my hairline, running his long fingers through my hair until he reached the base of my neck. It felt nice - if a little weird. Sent little shivers down my spine. I remember this... he said, playing with the little whisps at back of my neck. The colour of it, I guess... But maybe I just had dreams about a blond once.

I lauched softly. Yeah, dreams, I replied.

And your voice, he admitted after a pause. It’s nice, really... Knowing you without having to...

Get to know me, I finished.

He titled his head a little, as if to say, in a sort of indulgent way, Yes, dear. I smiled at him a little, and he smiled back a little, and I had the feeling that maybe remembering wasn’t such a lonely feeling after all.

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