Returning to the scene of the crime is always the hardest part of memory mapping. It's so easy to forget how much smells, sights, even the taste of a certain drink can effect us. When we are away from everything we're safe.
Driving down the roads at home, thousands of miles away from here, there are things I would avoid. Things became unacceptable in that life,certain songs, letting people smoke in my car; I preferred coffee houses to bars, and would hide myself away in the book stores until near midnight.
But I made the choice to return, and failed to prepare for the onslaught of flashes, little moments that I had forgotten, but was then reminded of because of the details in this setting. It's so easy to become haunted by those things, to possibly become the shadow of who I was.
Changes have to be made, are being made. I do not want the same things anymore. I'm finding I long for things I never knew I wanted, or maybe I did. Maybe forgetting I wanted those was easier. But then again this longing is easier, easier than becoming possessed with want of the old things. It is easier to become real, than to remain a ghost.
1 comment:
Well, I finally made it to your blog, and was immediately aware of how much I missed you, Mari.
I can so relate to the sentiments this entry's housing... totally different circumstances, and situations... but still the same underlying sense, somehow.
Changes... that illusive search for the self; the TRUE self...
*sigh* never easy; often confusing...
but never anything but worthwhile.
Thanks for sharing, *hugs*
Bella
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