Undoubtedly, being home unearths a great deal of nostalgia and long forgotten memories. They say, "they" being some rumor or psychological study that I heard about long ago, that every seven years, a person undergoes a change, either of personality traits or some kind of extreme emotional change that makes some kind of pronounced difference, an evolution of self so to speak.
It's strange, when I look at pictures of my teenaged self, I feel so removed from the person in the photographs, like I'm looking at a stranger.
I see myself, the familiar features, but is there an inner core of me that resonates with the person I see in the pictures or was it just some sort of passing personage? Is there an everlasting personality, whoever "Laura" is, or am I merely a collection or reactions and reponses to various catalysts and adaptation to my surroundings?
I certainly feel different around my friends from my teenaged years. I can't put my finger on it...but something's...changed. Perhaps its the separation of paths that we've all embarked on, the natural course of life, but I can't seem to get back to that place of comfort and shared years of experiences that has previously bonded us.
Or maybe I'm back to where I've been all along, feeling like very few can understand my wavelength or relate to me on a deeper level. I miss Jon.
What do you expect?
As for other affairs, like I've said before, I've been flying by the seat of my pants, leaping before I look, and generally letting my impulsiveness take the wheel . I know you don't approve and I know I shouldn't do this and shouldn't do that, I need to slow down, control myself, etc....but I've lived my young breathless life too long under the thumb of an authoritative male. I just want to be free. However, your caring and recognition of my value intruiges me, and lord knows I prize vulnerability in others but rarely reveal it of myself.
What do you want from me?
You sly dog. I don't understand what it is you're after or maybe I know exactly what is is and I pretend to remain in denial for my own amusement. The truth is I like you. The truth is I wish I didn't. I think sometimes that I can see through you but maybe this is the front you put on with all the girls. Either way, chase me down or let me go. I won't dangle forever.
I leave now with this:
Everything is more complicated than
you think. You only see a tenth of
what is true. There are a million
little strings attached to every
choice you make; you can destroy
your life every time you choose.
But maybe you won't know for twenty
years. And you'll never ever trace
it to its source. And you only get
one chance to play it out. Just try
and figure out your own divorce.
And they say there is no fate, but
there is: it's what you create.
Even though the world goes on for
eons and eons, you are here for a
fraction of a fraction of a second.
Most of your time is spent being
dead or not yet born. But while
alive, you wait in vain, wasting
years, for a phone call or a letter
or a look from someone or something
to make it all right. And it never
comes or it seems to but doesn't
really. And so you spend your time
in vague regret or vaguer hope for
something good to come along.
Something to make you feel
connected, to make you feel whole,
to make you feel loved.
I can't wait to see what happens next.
