There are some memories that are etched in my brain, and whenever they come back, the feeling's always prevalent.
I remember exactly what it felt like, and it's almost like reliving it. That's usually how memories work, but the kind I'm talking about hit the senses a lot harder.
This one memory I'm specifically talking about is from quite some time ago.
To be accurate, probably around 3 years ago. 2009, yes. I'd say it was around November or December. Or was it around January or February of 2010? I have the hardest time recalling details regarding time. I remember most other things a lot more vividly.
I remember waking up every day, and feeling the happiest I have ever felt.
Yes, the happiest I've ever felt.
It's not an exaggeration and I know that's exactly how I felt, because I still remember clearly.
I'd wake up for class with the sun shining through my window. That can be any season in Philadelphia, which makes it harder to remember the exact time. Late 09, early 10, I'm sticking with that.
I'd wake up with the sun shining through my windows, I'd remember that I 'now' had 'everything I had been waiting for my entire life.'
Perhaps not much, because I was relatively and considerably younger back then. It sure did feel like I had, at that point, everything I was waiting for.
I was in a land still foreign, I had not discovered as much of it as I have now. I hadn't reached the point where I started regarding it as "home," in conversations and in my subconscious.
I was starting to fall in love. Madly in love. It wasn't full blown yet, but in the back of my head I knew it was starting to happen. That's what made it special, I guess, it was like foreplay.
It might have been the early quarter of 2010 ...
It was to that startling realization that I would wake up those days.
It was this enthralling thought that I would, without doubt, be seeing someone later during the day who I'd spend most of my other time wanting to see.
What my first few adventures on the journey to the rest of my life were meant to be leading up to. At least in my head.
It sounds corny on paper, it's a lot more comical in my head now too, in fact. But it was pretty fucking awesome. How am I supposed to forget a memory so... too good to just forget?
Spending those warm, sunny days, staring into pupils that were staring right back into mine, as if searching for something deep down inside me.
Gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting it right back for my eyes to feed on them and be willing to live off it. Golden brown, like they had been baked in the sun, and generously big and round, just enough for me to have a joy ride whenever we locked eyes.
As if, just as startled as me. Like a baby kitten or lion cub coming across something it has never seen before, and is surprised even exists.
It could have also been nearing the end of April, beginning of May ... two thousand and ten.
I remember spending a lot of days after that getting familiar with the scent of someone that had made it past everything and everyone else so far. Indulging in it, basking in it, making it mine. Making it so my heart would become more generous with it's labor, and I'd get lightheaded every time I encountered it.
A lot of nights too.
All subconsciously, too, we're seldom paying enough attention to such things to notice them.
The grass suddenly grew greener. The sky, more blue. The clouds came out to compliment the sunlight more often too. The wind blew more gently, and felt more soothing. I felt more alive than I ever had before.
That was definitely May... a little of June.
I still remember the shared verbal confirmation. Or acknowledgement of the fact.
Ha. I have recalled that specific moment several times between then and now.
Some people were even fortunate (or unfortunate) enough of hearing the tale, narrated by me in one of my most vulnerable moments: of intoxication.
That ones not going anywhere.
That's just what it was, though. Vulnerability. Like a cat laying down on it's back and letting you pet it's tummy. Submitting willingly, letting the rising tide swallow me whole. Swallow us whole.
That was definitely August - September, twenty ten.
I had also just discovered Scheherazade, that amazing piece of music based on the Arabian tales, by Russian composer: Rimsky Korsakov. Our favorite set was "The young Prince and Princess," a very apt name for the kind of romanticism Korsakov was aiming for. Perfect, as if the words, the feeling, and the music were all created in the seventh heaven, and therefore shared their intent.
And "Wicked Games," by Chris Isaak. Of course. That wasn't even the most cliche thing of all, though. A journal I was keeping back then, and still have, reminds me I got to make out to Nirvana in the background, too.
The waves felt a little more frightening all of a sudden. And young, careless, unsure. Uncertain and a little scared. Like jumping into a body of water, not realizing how deep it really is. It suddenly felt a lot more deeper, a little more unforgiving.
We saw it coming. From miles and miles away. I know we did, we could see it in each other's eyes. But it would be much more poetic to ride the wave, it wasn't really a choice anymore.
I suppose. This is perhaps best classified and left at as "speculation."
It was the year 2010.
And it was, well, it was really something.
One heck of a time. Some really crazy shit.
The good stuff, really. The stuff happiness is made of. It was amazing, and I can't consider myself anything but fortunate.
I mean, hey, life was pretty damn good to me. It has been, it really has. I may forget that every now and then, the present is always more overwhelming and for good reason. We shouldn't stay hung up on the past anyway, most of it is often coupled and followed by regret.
But hey. It can't be too bad to remember how great some things can feel, and hope you get to see it again. Gives you more reason to look forward to it, and appreciate it more.
I remember exactly what it felt like, and it's almost like reliving it. That's usually how memories work, but the kind I'm talking about hit the senses a lot harder.
This one memory I'm specifically talking about is from quite some time ago.
To be accurate, probably around 3 years ago. 2009, yes. I'd say it was around November or December. Or was it around January or February of 2010? I have the hardest time recalling details regarding time. I remember most other things a lot more vividly.
I remember waking up every day, and feeling the happiest I have ever felt.
Yes, the happiest I've ever felt.
It's not an exaggeration and I know that's exactly how I felt, because I still remember clearly.
I'd wake up for class with the sun shining through my window. That can be any season in Philadelphia, which makes it harder to remember the exact time. Late 09, early 10, I'm sticking with that.
I'd wake up with the sun shining through my windows, I'd remember that I 'now' had 'everything I had been waiting for my entire life.'
Perhaps not much, because I was relatively and considerably younger back then. It sure did feel like I had, at that point, everything I was waiting for.
I was in a land still foreign, I had not discovered as much of it as I have now. I hadn't reached the point where I started regarding it as "home," in conversations and in my subconscious.
I was starting to fall in love. Madly in love. It wasn't full blown yet, but in the back of my head I knew it was starting to happen. That's what made it special, I guess, it was like foreplay.
It might have been the early quarter of 2010 ...
It was to that startling realization that I would wake up those days.
It was this enthralling thought that I would, without doubt, be seeing someone later during the day who I'd spend most of my other time wanting to see.
What my first few adventures on the journey to the rest of my life were meant to be leading up to. At least in my head.
It sounds corny on paper, it's a lot more comical in my head now too, in fact. But it was pretty fucking awesome. How am I supposed to forget a memory so... too good to just forget?
Spending those warm, sunny days, staring into pupils that were staring right back into mine, as if searching for something deep down inside me.
Gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting it right back for my eyes to feed on them and be willing to live off it. Golden brown, like they had been baked in the sun, and generously big and round, just enough for me to have a joy ride whenever we locked eyes.
As if, just as startled as me. Like a baby kitten or lion cub coming across something it has never seen before, and is surprised even exists.
It could have also been nearing the end of April, beginning of May ... two thousand and ten.
I remember spending a lot of days after that getting familiar with the scent of someone that had made it past everything and everyone else so far. Indulging in it, basking in it, making it mine. Making it so my heart would become more generous with it's labor, and I'd get lightheaded every time I encountered it.
A lot of nights too.
All subconsciously, too, we're seldom paying enough attention to such things to notice them.
The grass suddenly grew greener. The sky, more blue. The clouds came out to compliment the sunlight more often too. The wind blew more gently, and felt more soothing. I felt more alive than I ever had before.
That was definitely May... a little of June.
I still remember the shared verbal confirmation. Or acknowledgement of the fact.
Ha. I have recalled that specific moment several times between then and now.
Some people were even fortunate (or unfortunate) enough of hearing the tale, narrated by me in one of my most vulnerable moments: of intoxication.
That ones not going anywhere.
That's just what it was, though. Vulnerability. Like a cat laying down on it's back and letting you pet it's tummy. Submitting willingly, letting the rising tide swallow me whole. Swallow us whole.
That was definitely August - September, twenty ten.
I had also just discovered Scheherazade, that amazing piece of music based on the Arabian tales, by Russian composer: Rimsky Korsakov. Our favorite set was "The young Prince and Princess," a very apt name for the kind of romanticism Korsakov was aiming for. Perfect, as if the words, the feeling, and the music were all created in the seventh heaven, and therefore shared their intent.
And "Wicked Games," by Chris Isaak. Of course. That wasn't even the most cliche thing of all, though. A journal I was keeping back then, and still have, reminds me I got to make out to Nirvana in the background, too.
The waves felt a little more frightening all of a sudden. And young, careless, unsure. Uncertain and a little scared. Like jumping into a body of water, not realizing how deep it really is. It suddenly felt a lot more deeper, a little more unforgiving.
We saw it coming. From miles and miles away. I know we did, we could see it in each other's eyes. But it would be much more poetic to ride the wave, it wasn't really a choice anymore.
I suppose. This is perhaps best classified and left at as "speculation."
It was the year 2010.
And it was, well, it was really something.
One heck of a time. Some really crazy shit.
The good stuff, really. The stuff happiness is made of. It was amazing, and I can't consider myself anything but fortunate.
I mean, hey, life was pretty damn good to me. It has been, it really has. I may forget that every now and then, the present is always more overwhelming and for good reason. We shouldn't stay hung up on the past anyway, most of it is often coupled and followed by regret.
But hey. It can't be too bad to remember how great some things can feel, and hope you get to see it again. Gives you more reason to look forward to it, and appreciate it more.
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