The self is ever changing. I often lose track of who I was. My diary reminds the current me of events yet to happen that a past me has written for a future me to act upon.
I tell myself stories of the events that occured to fix them into some sort of permanence within my flawed brain. Inevitably all the events cannot be recorded. Some events are lost and corrupted.
I forget how I made the first rips for this image. I have no grasp on the event in question. No singularity to fix upon in accessing my memory. Maybe I didn’t make these rips? The current version of me has no recollection so maybe the past me didn’t do it?
somewhere deep down I know it was me all along.