When you think of the word "memory" what comes to mind? Do you remember something from your past? Do you think of the definition of the concept of memory? Do you think of how much storage space you have left on your phone and how you really ought to organize your files? Do you think of that shitty boardgame?

Memory [in the context of where we are right now (you there and the words here)] is broken into two parts.

On one hand we have "episodic" memory. This is your fuzzy recollections of things that have happened to you. This could be like that time no one showed up to your birthday party as a kid and getting bummed out about it even though you didn't invite anyone. This could also be like that time you asked for help at a department store and was taken aback by the shrill high-pitched voice of the redheaded shopkeeper who told you where the notebooks are.

Now, let's circle back to something:

These are your "recollections", not exactly what happened. We will call events that actually happened "contingency" moving forward. Though this may change depending on the whims of the words here.

On the other hand (please don't drop it), we have "semantic" memory. Think of it as our personal definitions of "things" and "concepts". Let's take, for example, your definition of "Light Bulbs". What are you thinking of? Hot when left on, perhaps. Takes 3 blondes to change, maybe. Not that tasty, would also be a reasonable qualifier. So, "semantic" memory is something that consists of the totality of your recollections and isn't necessarily indicative of contingency. Sort of like the blueprint for a concept.

I understand that you have your hands full, but I have another thing to throw at you:

You may think that your "episodic" memories dictate your "semantic" memories, but that is not the case at all. Your changing definition of things and concepts directly shapes your recollection of your "episodic" memories. Even more interesting, perhaps even more dangerous, is that your recollections of the past are influenced not by just your semantic memories but the semantic and episodic memories of people who can't keep their mouths shut.

Memory is a form of knowledge. The more you know, the more you are aware of the gaps of your knowledge. The bigger those gaps are, the more likely you will doubt yourself. The more you doubt yourself the more you will try to seek knowledge. It's not really a big deal, unless you're the kind of person who is uncomfortable with not knowing the bigger picture.

Lincoln Loud is the type of person who is uncomfortable with not knowing the bigger picture.

Lincoln Loud's semantic memory of his eldest sister, Lori Loud, is as follows:

-Ex-Chairwoman of the Boyz Will Be Boyz Official Fanclub (Michigan Chapter)

-Bossy

-Blonde

-Likes golf

-In college

-Drives a souped up classic rally car named "Liza"

-Has a boyfriend

-Has a blonde best friend

-Eldest sister

-Prefers actions over words

These 10 qualifiers make up the totality that is Lori Loud in Lincoln's world. He could probably add a couple more to the list if you gave him some time, but those 10 came to him the fastest.

Here is a short compilation of Lincoln's episodic memories centered around Lori:

-That time she tried to cheer him up on his 4th birthday despite none of his friends showing up (he did not have any friends outside the household at this point)

-That time he was afraid she had a rash growing on her neck and made Lynn hold her down to rub ointment on them (looking back he recognizes these marks as hickeys)

-That time she almost burnt down the house in a chemical fire while trying to home develop film from dad's old camera (she gave the camera to him afterwards, he always takes film to get professionally developed now)

-That time she helped make Lincoln and Clyde matching friendship bracelets but spelled Clyde's name wrong as "Clark" (this is a particularly embarrassing memory because Clyde still has his bracelet and Lincoln lost his in the chemical fire)

-That time she leapt from a moving car in order to throw an old smoothie onto Carol Pringrey's car that she saw in the mall's parking lot, breaking its windshield from the sheer force of the throw (before they became friends, afterwards she found out that it wasn't her car but Mr. Bolhofner's ex-wife's car)

Some of them show that she is well-meaning, but also pretty vindictive. None of these memories are centered around golf, because Lincoln thinks golf is kind of boring.

Lincoln does not know Lori as well as he would like. He thinks she's changed ever since she left the house. He doesn't like change, but he also does like not having to live under the constant threat of being twisted into a pretzel.

So maybe, Lincoln thought, some changes are for the better.

Lincoln held up his phone and was greeted with silence. A look of confusion flashed on his face and took a look at his screen, he was still attached to his wireless Noise-Be-Gone 3000 earbuds through Blutooth. He frantically started searching his pockets.

Lucy intoned, "They fell into your left shoe."

A cold chill ran down Lincoln's spine as he quickly tore off his shoe and retrieved his buds, before placing them in he had to ask, "How did you know that Lucy?"

"I have my ways," Lucy's mouth twitched into a smile and quickly corrected itself. Lincoln shuddered.

The "ways" Lucy was referring to is that she was on Laundry Duty this week and took note of the sorry state of Lincoln's only pair of jeans.

"Thanks," Lincoln tried in vain to hide his disquieted demeanor, "I appreciate you, Lucy."

Lucy gave a curt nod and remained on standby near Lori's keypad.

"-ello? Lincoln?," all sound faded except for Lori's voice, "Did you literally buttdial me?."

"No, sorry about that. I lost my earbuds."

"Oh, okay. Hey, I'm a little busy right now but I can spare 15 minutes or so."

"Perfect, just needed to ask a question. But give me a call sometime when you want to catch up."

5 seconds of silence seemed to stretch into hours, "Lincoln," Lori's voice sounded a bit weary, "I know this is like literally the last thing you want to hear, but you kinda are starting to sound like dad over the phone."

A knot of embarrassment tied itself in Lincoln's stomach, "Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment," Lincoln lied, "What's the combo to your room again?"

A faux-bitter laugh rang in his ears, "Ohhhh, so that's how it is," Lori mocked, "I mistakenly believed my precious little brother wanted to talk to me, but instead he just wants my room. Oh! Woe is m-"

"C'mon, Lori! It's," Lincoln's voice sagged, maybe it is like that, "... not like that. We just need the room for an hour."

"I'm just clowning on you, twerp," Lori chuckled, "It's 0205."

Lincoln's brow furrowed, "My birthday?"

Lucy immediately punched some keys onto the keyboard only to sigh when it remained locked.

"No! What? Oh my god…" Lori gave an embarrassed laugh, "Not your birthday, my, uh… am I on speakerphone?"

Lucy contemplated the keypad before typing the numbers in a different composition. The door unlocked. Lucy gave Lincoln a quick nod, which Lincoln returned. After retrieving a feather duster and a screwdriver from her dress she disappeared behind the door. Lincoln is pretty sure her dress doesn't have pockets, but had more important things on his mind to think about it too hard.

"If I say 'yes' will that stop you from saying whatever it is you're going to say?"

"Probably," Lori laughed, "It's when I had my, uh… first kiss."

"That's kinda cute, I guess…" Lincoln tried in vain to resist the urge to gag, "But kinda gross."

"It isn't gross, twerp," Lori gave a mournful sigh, "Listen, Lincoln. Stuff like that isn't something to be ashamed of. It's just a natural part of life and love and stuff. I'm trying to have, like, a teaching moment with you."

"Sure. Free the nipple, or whatever." Lincoln intoned, fighting her will just drag this conversation on, "You hear about Luna and Sam?"

"Leni told me. Listen: you lived through me and survived. This isn't the end of the world."

Another silence, this time on Lincoln's part.

"Just because I survived it doesn't mean I wanted to go through it in the first place." His words fell from his mouth and hung in the air.

"... I'm," Lori was at a loss, "I'm sorry, Lincoln. If I could go back and throttle my younger self: I would. But… I can't. That's something I have to live with. I'd say something like 'you'll understand when you're older', but- I literally hope you never do."

Lincoln's face was frozen, "What do you mean?"

Lori sighed into the receiver, "Listen… there are some nights where I'll be trying to go to sleep and some memory of how much of a jerk I was to all of you flashes in my mind and it shoots me awake. I'm like literally haunted by who I used to be, and how I used to act. I used to tell myself that I had to be like that in order to keep everyone in line… but that was just me lying to myself."

Lincoln didn't really know how to respond so he let her continue.

"It's not just how I acted towards you guys, but other people too. Even Bobby. Even myself. Every time I look at myself in the mirror I can't help but see that person staring back at me. I'd like to say that I've changed… but I don't know for sure if that's more lies."

"I-," Lincoln could hear his voice again through Lori's receiver and looked at the floor, "I could say 'I forgive you', it'd be really easy. But maybe that would be a lie. Either way, it's just words. We can pretend none of it ever happened and have a fresh start, but that sounds like an even bigger lie. What I can say is that it never really mattered to me how you could be mean… what bothers me is that I think you've always felt like this about yourself and kept it from me."

"What?" Lori whispered.

"Because I feel like that too."

"Lincoln," Lori's voice sagged and immediately perked up, "You've really grown up."

Lincoln chuckled in response, not wanting to dwell on those bad vibes he continued: "Maybe," Lincoln sighed, "I guess one thing I can say for sure is that I've been overreacting over the whole 'Luna' thing. She isn't you- or the person you were back then."

"Ha," Lori laughed, "Yeah, guess you lucked out... I figured you were going to call me soon. You always were the first one up to putt when it comes to crises this big, just- just try to keep in mind that you're still human. If you make mistakes learn to forgive yourself for them."

"You first." Lincoln smirked.

"Touché," the sound of a door opening and the murmur of voices came through the receiver, "Gotta say goodbye now. Literally, do not be a stranger. I miss you. All of you."

Lincoln looked up to see his sisters waiting to get into the room, "We miss you, too, Lori. See ya."

Lincoln took out the earbuds and put them in his front left pocket. A look of annoyance flashed on his face as he felt them drop back into his shoe.

"Ding dang it! So that's how that happened…" Lincoln groaned.

"What is it now, Lincoln?" Lily asked, "You have to use the potty again or something?"

Lincoln took his shoe off with one hand as Lucy punched the code into the keypad to let everyone in.

"Wait…" Lincoln asked, "H-how did you get out of the room without me noticing?"

"I have my ways." Lucy announced as the door flew open. The scent of Shower and Body Works Tropical Breeze Body Scent erupted into the hallway, wrapping up the siblings like the embrace of their two eldest sisters.

They literally may have left the house, but the ghost of Lori and Leni totes lingers.

If we were to slip into your room at night and take a single, random item the chance of that item being recognizable as something that can be linked back to you is pretty low. Unless the only things that are in your possession are your social security card, monogrammed insulated water bottle, or credit card bills. In that case, you have bigger issues to deal with and probably shouldn't be here reading these words.

To say that we as individuals define ourselves by the objects we keep is a bit regressive. And a little rude. We can eye someone up and down and profile them through the clothes they wear or the content they consume, but we'd really only get a half-truth. If you want the whole truth- and like getting disappointed, you can always try to interact with a person and get a better idea of who they are.

Of course: people can lie to you, they can curate items to paint the picture of someone who they aren't. "Genuineness" isn't something that is marketable, partly because it is an impossible ideal and also because it's hard to spell. No matter how you try to carry yourself: you are aware that you are being seen. You can carry yourself like you don't care about anything, but that's still a performance.

You can try to catch glimpses of a person candidly, like a voyeurist, but you are still on one side of that window. You creep. You're still interpreting who they are through your lens. The only thing you would be doing by invading someone's privacy is fogging up a window and seeing your own empty reflection right back at you.

You can claim that you don't care if the identities you make up in your head and project on other people are fake, but if you didn't care: why did you observe them in the first place? You can claim that they entered your life without your consent, then why don't you just close your eyes? Nobody is making you do anything, and you can easily say "no" to anyone who bosses you around.

So why don't you? If the consequences of being yourself are too great to pay then you've just admitted that the person you are isn't worth being. The consequence of accepting the made-up mental images you make of other people is that you inadvertently accept that who you are is made up too.

If you are in your room right now take a look around and imagine your objects by themselves. By themselves they have no context: that is just a candy wrapper, that is just an unread paperback, that is a dirty sock, that is a ticket stub to a movie, that is black mold growing around your AC vents.

You should really get that checked out, by the way. Seriously, that isn't rust.

The things in your possessions are simply things, by assigning any kind of meaning and attributing them to your sense of self you are devaluing your own identity. This is not an advocacy for asceticism, this isn't an advocacy for anything. Just context for the words you read here.

If you let yourself be defined by concepts and objects you give them more meaning than you. You consent to have your own meaning given to something else. This is not telling you to burn your baseball card collection or your collection of photos of other people's baseball card collections, just let things be things and you be you.

You're better off just being yourself. You're better off letting other people be other people instead of weird constructs you made up. You're better off not actually taking any of the words you read here seriously.

Lincoln Loud doesn't really care about any of that, though. At least, not right now. According to the timeline diagnostic machine: things will change for Lincoln.

But looking at him at this particular vector of contingency: the majority of the things in his room aren't really his. They are given to him by his family, and can easily be taken away. Like most kids his age he doesn't really have a whole lot of things that he obtained through his own work, so what little he does own he places great, dogmatic importance on it. Going a bit further: he's still only 13 and doesn't have a real concrete sense of identity.

This is how Lincoln Loud would describe himself if he were a contestant in The Love Boat: Teen Tugboat Tournament

"Uh, is this thing on? Sorry if I'm a little bit nervous. Can you hea-

Oh, cool, good. So should I start now? Wait, you're recording?

Oh, okay. Well, my name is Lincoln Loud. I am 13 years old.

I currently live in Royal Woods and I have 10 sisters. It can get a little crazy every once in a while, but we all try our hardest to get along- or at least try not to cause permanent scars.

But *laughs* I wouldn't say all my sister's help me understand ladies any better, just that every lady is different, I guess.

Uh, what? My interests?

I like to read comic books in my spare time and play videogames. I also like to spend my time helping out my family with stuff and working at my dad's restaurant. I'm also the manager for that band The Moon Goats. I have a coin collection and like to build models. I guess I'm kind of boring, but I also like stage magic! *Lincoln flicks his wrist and his underwear appears in his palm* Taa-daaaa! Haha, uh. Okay I won't do that again.

Wh- My "dreams"?

Okay, well I have this reoccurring one where my dog is my homeroom teacher and he makes me say the pledge of allegiance but I bark it, since my teacher is my dog, and everyone calls me racist against dogs and they throw boo-

Oh, like "goals" haha okay, uh,

I think it would be cool to own a Spades Nifty #1 in mint condition. I'm an experienced world-traveler, but I've never visited Nebraska. Kinda interested in seeing if it's as boring as everyone says it is. Oh! And I would like to visit Burpin' Burgers sister location in Royal Pines, California.

M- my taste in ladies?

I have been told that I have a predilection towards girls who have strong personalities, but I wouldn't mind someone quiet. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a girlfriend or anything yet, uh- I'm kinda scared of doing something wrong. Like what kind of flowers are you supposed to give for your 3 month anniversary? I bet any other guy would be able to know something simple like that off the top of the dome, but me?

Fat chance."

As you can plainly see: Lincoln Loud is the very definition of "eligible bachelor". If your definition of "eligible" is "wet" and your definition of "bachelor" is "blanket".

Luckily, Lincoln is not on that gameshow. He is barred from entry due to the fact that he is not allowed in Canada anymore. They do a lot of shooting in Canada. Folks in the business call this "Hollywood Magic".

Lincoln's room is small. But he has amassed 13 years of objects and his room resembles one of those really sad memorial graves on the sides of roads. If you don't know what we are talking about it's usually like a white cross driven into the ground, stuffed animals and laminated photos give you a glimpse of the kind of life that person once had.

The totality of a person condensed in a make-shift monument, a microcosm of how others see others.

You can walk into Lincoln's room and immediately see what his whole deal is. Like the rings in a tree trunk you can trace the development of his sensibilities over time on the varied layers of dust that coat his toys and games. The most recent edition to his room is a The Harvester II poster he hung up to cover a hole in the drywall he made a month back when he tripped putting on his jeans while standing up.

He has trouble having his friends over, partly because of how small his room is and because of the overwhelming sense of pity that all of them feel when stepping foot in his "room". It was cute when they were kids, but now that everyone is reaching puberty there is an odd feeling in the back of their heads that wants to light a candle and pray for the memory of Lincoln Loud.

Lori and Leni's room is much bigger and way less depressing. It does have a small closet when you compare it to some of the other rooms, but boasts easy access to the bathroom and has the least creaky floorboards of any room upstairs. Muted cerulean walls pair well with the abundant natural lighting coupled with the refined hand-beveled floor and crown molding all give the room a certain "eminence". Due to its location on the left side of the house it has priority on the air conditioning unit and boasts 2 vents that let cold air breathe and circulate. The added benefit of the tamper-proof home security system and keypad provides a sense of anxiety-free ease.

It's prime real estate.

Lori and Leni have both collected their various things, so the room seems kind of barren. Leni took her sewing desk and all her various sundries, Lori went ahead and took down her posters and lights. They made extra care to slap on a new coat of paint before Leni left and deep cleaned the carpet. Compared to the rest of the rooms in the house it looked like another world stuck in time. A hallowed feeling crept into the bones of the Loud siblings as they took their seats. Lincoln stood standing and faced the wall.

There used to be a poster where Lincoln was staring at, an advertisement for a Boyz Will Be Boyz concert sponsored by Krebstar Cola. "The KrebWorld Tour 2009", Lincoln remembered Lori and Leni staying up all night trying to win tickets on the local radio show. He remembered crying alongside them when the two of them didn't win but he had fond memories of the excited "what-ifs" Lori and Leni shared with each other that night. The concert was in Great Lakes City and the girls have never been out of state before that and were excited over the prospect of seeing what the rest of the world had to offer.

Now they are out of the house and finally got their wish granted.

Lincoln contemplated that empty space, away from his sisters. He reached out and swore he could feel the paper of the poster like a phantom limb.

Before Leni left, before Lori left, this room was just as loud as the rest of the house. Now it spends its days in solitude, waiting for its owners to come back.

Lincoln turned around.

"And when you're in the bigger room

You might not know what to do

You might have to think of how you got started

Sitting in your little room"

Little Room by The White Stripes

I wish I could be writing you this message under better circumstances, not for me, but for us. Things haven't been looking good for me and you. If they were you wouldn't be reading this, and I wouldn't be writing it. Some things are self-evident, but even things that are self-evident should still be written down. "If a bear shits in the woods and no one hears it: does it still stink?" is the same sort of idea.

This fic expands on some of the ideas presented in the other fic. But I'm mainly writing it because I feel a bit more comfortable with writing in 3rd person. That isn't to say that I think I'm doing a good job or anything.

You may notice the sparse descriptions for this fic. You might be tempted to leave a review or favorite it. You may even think it's a good idea to share it with your friends. Do not, under any circumstances, show this fic to someone else.

This is between me and you. The way it's always been.