You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory

If you take a memory, any memory really, and ask people who were involved with that memory, none of you will remember it the same way. I swear I have a fantastic memory, but what if I don't? What if all my memories are tainted with the way I needed to see them at that moment?
This is a mixed up post, but it's based on another reaction to the Heroin Diaries and a long conversation with a friend a few days ago. I used to spend a lot of time fucked up in one form or another, and now, reading that book, I wonder, if my memories of having fun and laughing, were my perception and I was actually hurting people or ruining someone else's good time.
I have a friend and a semi-friend who were very proud of their quick wit and intellect. But, sometimes they used that in a negative way. Sometimes they were bullies. I laughed at their antics a lot, so maybe I was one too, but that's not my point. My point is, how many times did they devastate someone , or spoil what might otherwise have been a great evening out.
I also have another friend, who is really a good guy at heart, who gets his kicks from seeing two people having a good time together, not PDA, as much as just talking, laughing and creating a connection, and he has to go over and break it up and talk the female in the duo into wandering away and hanging out with him. He's fun to be around, so the girl walks away with good memories of her night, but were those the memories she wanted or should have had?
There's another guy, rapier wit and amazing intelligence, who has spoiled many a night by knowing exactly what button to hit on someone. He's flawless at it and it's great fun to watch, but once again, do those people go home at night and think about all the things they did, or do they think about what he said. From some of the people I've talked to, it's the mean comment that gets dwelled upon.
In The Heroin Diaries, and The Dirt by extension, Nikki and Tommy did just that on a regular basis. They hurt people who got in the way of their fun. Or, they hurt people in the name of having fun. I know for a fact I've done that myself. I've done it to people I love, people who I like and people that I couldn't care less about. That's selfish, I know, and I don't much care, but I wonder what my memories look like on the other side of the table.
People paint me as so nice, but I'm not. I'm a bully in my own way. I'm demanding and bitchy, and I'm aware of it. Sometimes the insults pop out of my mouth before I have even had time to realize I've thought them. It's instinct, like it is with every person mentioned above.
I'm very similiar to the friend, semi-friend and rapier wit guy mentioned above, as well as to Nikki Sixx, and now, I wonder, how many people went home at one point or another stinging over something I said or did. I can't take it back, and wouldn't if I could, but it'd be an interesting figure to have.
Does this mean I'm going to be nice from now on? No. Does this mean I'm going to think before I speak? No. It just means I'm aware that I might be screwing up someone's evening and I'm ok with it. Does that make me awful? Probably, but I couldn't live with myself any other way.
But the memories that I carry of the special evenings out, that just fell into my lap by good timing and luck, I treasure. I love thinking of them and I'm sure I'll pull them out when I'm older and relish them just as much. There are the "Cone Of Silence" memories, when myself and a friend just sat and talked and were so intimidating, I guess, that no one would interrupt us. I love those memories, because they can't be recreated. Those nights just happened and I carry them in my heart always. People who wanted to spend time with me were hurt during the creation of those memories, but I wouldn't trade a second of them for anything in the world. I can't even honestly say that I'm sorry that I hurt those people back then, because I'm not. I was creating memories that I take to bed with me and dream about. Those were the nights that were pink castles and apple blossoms and fuck anyone who got hurt in the process.
My phone calls with another friend are up there too. I let bunches of people go to voicemail, so I can talk to this guy. We're just friends, but I get so much nourishment from those conversations that it's worth pissing a few people off.
There's another friend who I see way too rarely, but we keep in touch and go to lunch once in awhile that I've known forever and just knowing he's out there, thinking of me...stealing rocks from Anton LaVey's house for me, makes me stronger. I have so many fantastic memories of time spent with this guy that there isn't enough room to tell them all here. But trust me he's special, and I'm honored to have him as a friend.
To wrap up a mixed up post, which I did warn you was going to be mixed up, I'm just going to say, enjoy all your great memories, but try and remember that other people have memories too. Theirs might not be as great as yours.