Losing Things

I've been losing things for as long as I can remember. Nothing seems to stay intact, for my mind is not intact either; lack of harmony with itself. It is instead a mess of unorganized priorities, each clung on to until the very last minute, causing the brain to topple over itself. The result is a leftover gap in my brain that fails to get noticed, such as leaving the car keys on the table rather than keep them clutched in my hand. Of all the things that I consistently lose and misplace, it is the car keys that evade me above all else. Two times now have I lost them and been forced to settle down for a new set. And let's not forget the dozens of mishappenings that took place before that. I honestly believe that I have a car key curse; the cellphone, wallet, and jacket all come natural, oddly enough. The guilt that I place on myself is immense, especially each time I am forced to look my parents in the eye and report them of my misfindings. Except that, once again, I just can't quite bring myself to believe that it's my fault. "Oh, but it's just that you don't care to keep up with things," they say. "You know we'll be the ones paying for it, again and again." Wow, shut up please. How can I help the fact that I was born with such poor memory retrieval? It's not that I don't care, it's that I never even think of it in the first place. They even tried to enforce the seven times rule, a stupid exercise in rote memory. They believe, for example, that if I practice putting my keys in my pocket for seven times in a row, I will have then formed a habit in which I will never forget them again. How preposterous! The message is there, but the context is out of place. It's ineffective because the action isn't being performed in the proper context, such as when I get out of my car. Oh well, I guess I'll have to live with this problem for the rest of my life; I've given it my all.