Jolt.
Everything feels so foreign.
On LiveJournal, that is. It feels like I'm somewhere I don't belong, yet there's so much nostalgia. I recently discovered that Drew still posts entries on his journal, so I thought I might take it back up (at least for a spell), and was suprised to see that a lot of old friends are doing the same, or never stopped at all. Strange, what few things some of us still share in common.
That needs to change, but I realize now that it can be a lot harder and more awkward to sew broken seams than I thought. Especially with those you were closest to. I've been thinking a lot about how odd it is that there are people that know me on a deep personal level up to a certain age, and then nothing from then to present. It just seems so difficult to overcome the barrier of relearning simple traits of a friend, such as likes and dislikes. Looking at those who I consider close now, we've all changed so much, and remembering what and who we used to be is no small task. For me, these memories exist mostly in sketch books, videos, old notebooks of lyrics, and in the archives of this journal. These people have been reshaped, added years of individual experiences. They're no longer the adolescents that drenched themselves in cologne or perfume and stood in small clusters around Max's backyard bonfires and talked about their recent crushes or breakups. We're all on course to setting up our own lives now.
Why should the situation be any different for those who have vanished and returned? Of course they'll be new people. I just don't know if I'm ready to meet old friends for the first time.
I guess I need to be.
On LiveJournal, that is. It feels like I'm somewhere I don't belong, yet there's so much nostalgia. I recently discovered that Drew still posts entries on his journal, so I thought I might take it back up (at least for a spell), and was suprised to see that a lot of old friends are doing the same, or never stopped at all. Strange, what few things some of us still share in common.
That needs to change, but I realize now that it can be a lot harder and more awkward to sew broken seams than I thought. Especially with those you were closest to. I've been thinking a lot about how odd it is that there are people that know me on a deep personal level up to a certain age, and then nothing from then to present. It just seems so difficult to overcome the barrier of relearning simple traits of a friend, such as likes and dislikes. Looking at those who I consider close now, we've all changed so much, and remembering what and who we used to be is no small task. For me, these memories exist mostly in sketch books, videos, old notebooks of lyrics, and in the archives of this journal. These people have been reshaped, added years of individual experiences. They're no longer the adolescents that drenched themselves in cologne or perfume and stood in small clusters around Max's backyard bonfires and talked about their recent crushes or breakups. We're all on course to setting up our own lives now.
Why should the situation be any different for those who have vanished and returned? Of course they'll be new people. I just don't know if I'm ready to meet old friends for the first time.
I guess I need to be.