The history of me … and of several of you too

I lay awake most of the night, kicking myself for opening the Pandora’s box otherwise known as where I store my old journals.

I guess I was looking for some overlooked clue that would have made me happy, instead of a blow-by-blow documentation of the rise and fall of young would-be love.

But looking through all those years, wow, do I see how I became a more-intense version of who I was.

I used to love with all my heart … and shout it from the rooftops to the person who needed to hear it. And I fell on my face every damn time.

It was when I started to become elusive, to keep my sordid fantasies to myself, to be a tease and be detached and cool, when the boys started flocking to me. And staying.

Holy shit, what really gets me is how I named a bunch of them. People I’ve forgotten. People I, for the most part, cannot remember.

Had I not immortalize them, their existence might not have mattered to the universe.

It isn’t just matters of the heart. I chronicled all my jobs too. And I see where my absolute madness comes from.

I remember those shit jobs, where I was making stupid things out of construction paper and glue while sitting on personal calls all day because I had nothing better to do. I remember wondering who put those idiots in charge. I remember looking forward to the day when I would HAVE those jobs.

It’s funny. I look at the Millennial generation now and think they are a bunch of smug, self-entitled assholes. I don’t think that was me, though. I just wanted the chance to prove myself. And I fought for it everywhere. You didn’t have to hand me shit. And now, I would be dazzled if I met someone just like me.

In any event, I have thinking to do that I can’t type out here. But I am grateful for anyone who is listening. I think a lot of people would be surprised at what I remember about them — good, bad and everything in between. And how every last word and experience shaped who I am today.

Comments closed.