To degauss: to remove unwanted magnetism in order to correct some sort of disturbance.
Twenty-something. Graduate student. Musician. Martial Artist. 90s Kid. ENTP. My life is not my own.
For the first time in my life, I am deeply jealous of you. You have found what was taken from me, and suddenly I am met with the reality of what I have.
I am both frozen and on fire, and I want to run and stay in denial simultaneously. I have never felt more conflict.
And just like that, the switch is flipped. It’s the moment I’ve been dreading and hoped I would escape this time around.
Something deep in me wants to run, and it makes me feel like a complete asshole.
Timehop reminded me that on this day, 5 years ago, I was the happiest I have ever been.
Youth fades so quickly. I’m glad that joy is independent of my circumstances and even the most powerful nostalgia.
Fruit cup and coffee for breakfast. Crying over my failure of an academic presentation for lunch.
This morning I woke up to the sounds of birds and the smell of warming dew on concrete. The sun peeked through my blinds for the first time in what seems like forever. Spring is finally here, and I am feeling reborn.
I am inspired to do well in my new job, happily accept criticism as an opportunity to better myself, work hard, eat what makes me feel good, rest enough, and enjoy the people and experiences God has placed in my world for this season.
I am so incredibly blessed, and sometimes I just need the sun to come out to see that.
Tonight, I am wided-eyed headphones and a thousand of your other metaphors on a ship that set to sea years ago.
I know it isn’t the memory of you that lingers, but rather youth, innocence, magic and believing that the world was just outside our grasp.
Still, when he is gone and all is quiet, these memories fill my mind like helium set free in a room. It makes me wonder why my neurons don’t dance back to our evening chats or words he has said.
Maybe you are all of my energy and boundless adventure, maps enticing me with their rivers, valleys and mountains, spiritual and supernatural worlds beyond my eyes yet to be revealed, limitless trust while standing in awe of this thing that I did not quite understand. You were magic and fairy tale, a story that was left open ended so I could reshape it however I wished.
And he, he is the real world. He is two jobs and grad school. He is the plummeting job market and distance from friends. He is realizing that I don’t get vacations and that my parents are growing older. He is the repeating decimal of sunrise and sunset and “what do you want for dinner?” every day. He is knowing something so well that you can name the number of freckles on its neck and the same 6 tee-shirts it always wears.
Maybe I’m just scared of growing up.
But it makes you wonder.