nostalgia
What am I feeling? Nostalgia? That must be it. Surfing through myspace, I came across things. My past, that’s what I came across. The way things used to be. The innocence in wanting to fit in damages us. Who knew that the simple act of a disturbed boy would lead him into exile? For the fear of being shunned, I shunned myself. I never gave myself the chance to be honest with myself. If I couldn’t be honest with myself, how would it be possible to be honest with anyone else?
It isn’t.
Today, a few moments ago, a new perception of myself was laid upon my eyes, and I’m trembling. Reminiscence is a bitch. But we can’t escape our past.
The reason I’m so off kilter must be from the thoughts racing through my head. I’ve found people I never thought I’d see again. EVER. And the first thing that I wanted to do was to say ‘hi, how are ya?’ but I couldn’t, for the image I’ve placed myself in is still there. I’m worrying about what they would say of me now, after the incident, after all the needless bullshit.
Think the thought again, and you know what? It’s not my place to worry about what they think, or how they feel. My actions, my past, has done no physical or mental harm to those I want to greet. The best I can do is to assure myself, again, that it’s different this time around. Me? I’m a different person. I’m no longer tethered to the indecencies of my history, the shame in which I’ve gone great distances to separate myself.
Let’s try this again.
Hi, how are ya?
It isn’t.
Today, a few moments ago, a new perception of myself was laid upon my eyes, and I’m trembling. Reminiscence is a bitch. But we can’t escape our past.
The reason I’m so off kilter must be from the thoughts racing through my head. I’ve found people I never thought I’d see again. EVER. And the first thing that I wanted to do was to say ‘hi, how are ya?’ but I couldn’t, for the image I’ve placed myself in is still there. I’m worrying about what they would say of me now, after the incident, after all the needless bullshit.
Think the thought again, and you know what? It’s not my place to worry about what they think, or how they feel. My actions, my past, has done no physical or mental harm to those I want to greet. The best I can do is to assure myself, again, that it’s different this time around. Me? I’m a different person. I’m no longer tethered to the indecencies of my history, the shame in which I’ve gone great distances to separate myself.
Let’s try this again.
Hi, how are ya?