April 5, 2012

Dreams Of The Nineties

There is something so magical about going back to the home I grew up in and reading the old journals and letters I wrote as a kid. As an adult I often catch myself thinking that I haven't done enough, or that somehow I have fallen behind everyone else. I compare myself to others and wonder when or where I started getting lost. Whenever I go home, which isn't very often, I am reminded that I actually have experienced everything I once hoped to. I just let myself forget that I never really wanted the norm. I consciously chose a different approach for myself which allowed for some wandering and a lack of order. I can read the words I once wrote down, and suddenly I'm aware that I am exactly who I hoped to be. I have done everything I wanted to do, and so I haven't really been lost at all. I just knew myself pretty damn well when I was a kid. Realizing that makes me feel like I can do whatever I want, and that I already have a pretty good start. That is a remarkable feeling.

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