Hello, old friend.
The chilly air finally put me over the edge. I'd been thinking alot lately about the previous year of my life. Today I couldn't take any more. I put on my Subhumans/Crass/Conflict/Minor Threat/Black Flag playlist and slowed down for a minute. Gently bobbing my head, of course. I thought about manic panic and stretch jeans, screaming along and throwing up fists at more shows than I can recall, torturous band practice every weekend and gut-wrenching poker games most nights of the week. I can remember in detail every feeling that I felt. Looking back on it, I feel like an old woman. It's so close, yet infinitely distant. Despite the discomfort it causes me to think of my absolute misery, the memories are fond. They fill me with wordless wonder. Did any of it really happen? Was that really ME? I'd swear it was all a story someone told me that began with "Once, there was a girl" and ended with some kind of enigmatic end line like "This IS an exit" that made me cock my head and squint my eyes like it could make me understand. (After a moment of thought, I'd relax and think "She'll be alright. I know she will.") She is alright. She got the self-actualization she'd been craving so desperately, and stands now with her shoulders back and a soft, knowing smile where a snotty smirk used to be. Instead of driving the world away, it says "I dare you. Give me your best shot. No one can break me down now. I am happy." I always wanted to say it, and now I feel I rightfully can: Victory is mine!