You don't know everything.

No one does. We're only human. Just as God holds the mysteries of the universe, each person has their own way of working and their own thoughts, and not everyone else has to understand them.
See, I can be forgetful at times. I have a seriously sharp memory; chances are if I don't remember it, it didn't happen to me. But when it comes to people telling me to do things or having to remember specific ideas, it's not so easy. I do have A.D.D., so when I am told one thing after the other, I get distracted doing one and then get carried away... you know how the story goes.
So apparently, I was supposed to call someone this week. My parents kept nagging me about it, but, you know, they're my parents. I don't really put their instructions in the forefront of my mind when I have to remember things that pertain to my being alive, so I kind of let it fall by the wayside.
The problem, though, is that this happens quite often; I get really busy and forget to do what my parents tell me to do. So today, my dad got pretty fed up with it.
"I don't understand how you can just forget to call her," he said. "Why is it so hard to remember? Or set a reminder in your phone? Or write it down? Something!"
"Well," I told him, "believe it or not, I do have other things I need to remember that take precedence. And my phone's reminder system stinks; it's not meant to be an organizer at all. And write it down?! Where? I'd lose the paper in two seconds."
At this point, my dad got really frustrated. I told him I didn't understand; he also has memory issues. Not like Alzheimer's or anything--he's not that old--but the same kind of issues that I have. So I thought that he, of all people, would understand. But no. He kept going on about how I need to "fix it".
I kept telling him that it's just me, and there's not much to do about it; that I just get distracted a lot of the time or have more important things to worry about, but he would have none of it.
"I'm sorry," I told him, "but my brain is not just some broken part I can fix."
Out of frustration, he went, "Yes. It is. It's broken. FIX IT."
After that, I marched out, fuming. My brain is not a broken part, or even a broken arm/limb. I think since it's just a vital organ, I have to face it, like the broken heart. And so does everyone else. But, apparently, since it's just "unfathomable", my parents don't want to face it.

Just because you don't understand what's going through someone's head does NOT mean that there's something to "fix". I really don't understand why I know that and my parents, who are way older than I am and therefore supposedly wiser, do not.