Wanderhoney.Com

I recently reactivated my Facebook account—not because I missed using it, but to check out what my mom had been posting for her birthday. Normally, my account stays deactivated because, let’s be honest, Facebook isn’t really my thing anymore. However, every now and then, I reactivate it just to keep up with family updates and whatever nostalgic throwbacks my relatives decide to post. This time, though, I figured I’d keep it active for a little while longer.

Since my profile was basically a digital ghost town, I updated it with a recent photo. Then, out of curiosity, I started scrolling through old messages on Messenger. That’s when things got weird.

I found conversations with people I have absolutely no recollection of. I mean, zero memory—like they were strangers, except past me clearly knew them well enough to have full-blown conversations. It’s the strangest feeling, trying to grasp onto memories that just aren’t there. And yet, these people remember me. They remember my name, my personality, and the things we did together. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here thinking,

“Who even are you?”—It’s frustrating and oddly unsettling.

Then, after updating my profile picture, comments started rolling in.

“Wow, long time no see! Where have you been?”

“You disappeared!”

Some of them were from people I knew, but others? No clue. And here’s the awkward part—I haven’t replied to any of them yet because… what do I even say? “Hey, sorry, but I don’t remember you at all”  feels kind of rude. But pretending I do? Even worse.

This whole situation reminds me of an encounter at the MAHA event a few months ago. I was working there when a guy suddenly yelled, “Kaklong!” then he changed it to “Hanny Quinn!”

Only my old friends called me that, so I turned around, confused.

“Sorry, do I know you?” I asked, trying not to sound rude.

“It’s me, Wan, from National Service!” he said enthusiastically.

I blinked. “Who?”

“Come on, we were in the same Charlie Company! Remember?”

Nope. Not a single memory. My poor brain just stared at this enthusiastic stranger, searching for a clue. My colleague, seeing my struggle, chimed in,

“Don’t bother reminding her. She even forgets who she spoke to yesterday.”

Thank God for that save. We all laughed, but inside, I felt awful. No matter how much he tried to jog my memory, I couldn’t place him. I was one of the cadet leaders for a platoon under Charlie Company during my National Service training, responsible for about 40 female cadets and working alongside 100 others. It’s no surprise people remember me—I was literally yelling orders at them daily. But me remembering everyone? Impossible.

Damn, I really miss being in the National Service. I think my stamina was at its best when I was there. Still, it was heartwarming to see how happy he was to reconnect. He even commented on my Facebook photo later, jokingly telling others from National Service that I had completely forgotten him. 😂

Moments like these remind me why I hate running into people unexpectedly. There’s a high chance I won’t recognise them, and then it just turns into a painfully awkward moment. At least on social media, I can take my time to figure out who someone is. In person? Total panic mode.

I sometimes wonder if my poor memory is due to mental overload—years of stress, emotional exhaustion, or simply the way my brain prioritises certain experiences while discarding others. Maybe it’s a defence mechanism, erasing moments that no longer serve me, or perhaps I was just too caught up in the present to hold on to every detail from the past.

So yeah, if you ever see me in public and I walk right past you like you don’t exist—please don’t take it personally. It’s not that I’m ignoring you. It’s just that, to me, you really don’t exist… in my memory, at least.

I guess we’ll just have to start over.

Hi, I’m Hani. Nice to meet you. 😊

X, Hani. ❤️