I have a good memory, but sometimes I like to have the hard copy version of those memories. Words we said. Photos of what we did.

My parents had hired a computer tech person, because I wasn't able to solve the computer problem. I was at Berkeley already. The computer tech person was paid $65/hour. He decided that our computer was infected by a virus and reformatted the entire drive. My parents didn't even consult me.
I am not like everyone. I don't just store my school documents on my computer. I store...memories. That computer holds nearly everything I lived through for the last three years. Everything. It also held especially the memories (both good and bad...mostly bad...) of that impact from last year. I had made a list of specific directories that should not be altered or deleted.

In my mind, I can almost imagine.
"There's nothing I can do," he said with a solemn face, hiding the truth. "Everything must go."

I must admit though...perhaps that was the only solution. And I guess that I may seem a bit obsessed to be incredibly upset over the hard drive being reformmatted, but it was my life. The exact words that we had spoken. The casual exchange of pictures with people across the world. Attempts at writing. And now, it seems as if one part has been completely...deleted.