Originally written October 16th 2007
I wrote this when I first moved out to Santa Cruz. I wanted to reshare (along wih all awesome comments I got). Not much more to say about it (except since then, I’ve gone from 767 friends to 1440 =P).
Nostalgia hits me like bumping a bruise I didn’t know I had. Do I want to remember? Why is it that I can only keep track of who I am now, while the memories of lifetimes past continue to clash with the current universe I’m in?
I want to go back. If I can’t go back, then I don’t want to remember. My high school memories have faded into a lingering few. I don’t remember so much of how things exactly were, only how I felt. Or maybe how things felt remain in my memories to remind me that I use to be someone else, a person from a different place and time, on a different set of adventures, when the world was beautiful, but in such a different way that I probably don’t understand anymore.
And I keep climbing this mountain, stopping occasionally to admire the view, but only for a short while before I have to traverse more of this mountain, never really gaining a full understanding of what it is I keep leaving behind. It doesn’t matter anyhow, because whatever it is that I’d left behind is no longer there anymore.
I see the peek of the mountain now, and the obstacles ahead overwhelm me. Still, I’ve managed to make it one step at a time this far. No one would’ve expected that this out-of-place girl would be so relentless in finding her place. Funny, that although I’m a much different person, I am still as out-of-place as I’d ever felt. I just have a greater understanding and appreciation of this mountain I’ve been exploring for my whole life. I’m doing the only thing I know how to do (over and over and over again, it seems). It just starts over, year after year, as people come and go.
I miss all the adventures, how those who were once strangers became family through an uncanny connection or circumstance. I miss the people, although it wasn’t until the end of undergraduate years that I’d acknowledge having friends. In my heart, I know that the people I hold dear existed years prior. I believe I met the most people dear to me in those four years from freshman to senior year. And then I took a little break, or maybe I’m just settling down.
Will there be no more adventures? Did I outgrow that part of my life? For those who know me, who knew me, and who I’ve yet to meet, I want you to meet the different people I’ve been. I want you to meet the different people I’ve known in the past lives I’ve lived. I loved them so much. I wanted to help them in a sort of naive but yet noble sort of way. I took people on adventures and showed them the world in a way they never saw before. Things weren’t always so effective. I bet I’ve made a ton of people uncomfortable, but that never stopped me. It was worth it just to be able to share the view with someone else, even if it was only for a little while. They changed my life in those same ways.
I miss you. All of you. All 767 friends on my facebook (+ those who graduated before facebook was available and whoever else). Some people I’m connected to only by a short passing by. For some people, a short passing by is all it took to share an adventure. Remembering is accompanied by a deep sadness. Most of you were part a life that I don’t know anymore. I miss what it feels like like be laugh with each of you and to exchange deep and philosophical ideas. If I could go back, I’d be able to love you more effectively and more than I could have back then. My heart is a lot stronger and more experienced. I’m not so scared anymore. If I could I would go back, but no one ever stays where they are in our memories.
Somewhere in cyberspace are the breadcrumbs to what remains of my memories, in letters and blogs that I’d pour my thoughts into, back when I had such trouble expressing them to people.
My childhood has receded into a fading figment, like a dream that I can’t remember. Why is it that at every stage I long for the innocence that I’ll never have again? All I can recall is that it was once sooo awesome…whatever *it* was. Interesting, that the only consistency in my childhood were my video games…and here I am now…lol, even if I don’t remember how I got here.
tenderly painful (like a tender spot on a bruise that never quite goes away, but you often forget about).