Memory is a sense of the life we have lived. Memory is our own personal reality show that captures all our best moments to our worse. Our mind controls it, but who says we have control of our own minds. Why can't we forget those horrible moments in our lives? And why can't we simply remember where our keys are? There's no argument saying that our memories are ours, but who is really in control of them?
Peter Faren woke up with a jolt. His eyes were blood shot from the stress life was about to throw at him. He looked around the white clean room, and then his eyes fell to the empty space next to him. He frowned, he had woken up 10 minutes before his alarm was set to go off, and he was alone. He laid his back on the soft feather pillow.
Oh how he hated the life of a middle aged movie star. The lifestyle was the glamorous; he was surrounded by beautiful things, cars, houses, women all attractive at first but got old and outdated fast. He hated keeping up appearances and longed to settle in. But this was the life that all his choice's made. He couldn't blame the ex-wife's, or his family. It wasn't their choice's it was his.
"Beep Beep Beep!"
The alarm screamed the scream to wake the dead. Peter rolled over and shut the irritating noise off. But instead of getting up as normal people do Peter laid back down. He didn't know why he set the alarm, because soon the whole entire cast of project runway would be storming into the room getting him ready for the big interview. Today he was going on David Lettermen, his first interview since his DUI in Santa Barbra about 10 months ago. He needed this interview to go well, and save his public image. Peter took a deep breath and got out of bed.