Un-possible retour
When you look at an old photograph. One that you haven’t seen in years. Or maybe that you didn’t even know existed. And you get this warmth in your belly, and this huge smile on your face as you recall that day. Your synapses spring into action and one memory leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to another. Rebuilding neglected neural paths. Piecing together lapsed narratives. And for a minute you experience this thing, not just that day, but a whole period of your life that you thought you’d forgotten. A whole other you. When you were young. When you weren’t even you, really. And you can’t believe that you ever forgot it. And you can’t believe how different things were. For a minute. Then you’re left with a kind of emptiness in the pit of your stomach. The melancholy realization that that time has gone now and will never come back.
..
and you think…
what was i thinking?
how did i get here?
did i end up who i thought i was going to be?
am i still a dreamer?
or did life get too serious?
did i follow my passions?
did i make myself happy?
did i make the right choices?
did i let someone important go?
did i do them proud?
it all happened so quickly
