Throwback: Insomnia Brings the Memories Back

-

Written November 16, 2010

Another night with insomnia keeping me company. That and the comfort music thumping a pattern into my addled brain cells. It's funny how Facebook and sleeplessness do these things to you, but I find my thoughts slipping into places they hadn't been to in awhile.

I don't really know why I'm surprised, but I've tried to move on. No, really. But I guess I can't kid myself for long. Those things I try to forget, the memories that lie in wait in that locked room, aren't going nowhere.

And besides, I did promise. I promised myself that I'd go back there, and pull the covers off, and maybe even do a little bit of dusting. Mostly, I think all I want to do is just sit and bask in the atmosphere of a world I never wanted to leave.

Maybe those of you out there who still have what I could never have don't really see the point to it. Maybe you guys don't understand why I flinch every time someone comes out with that "I Hate It Here" line. That night, when the past beckoned to me, I knew it wasn't really time yet. But tonight, the magic in the air is slightly different. It shimmers and offers me a protection I know I will need, a protection against the pain encased in the past.

Why do I talk of pain? Well, perhaps because that first year after I lost it all (as I like to put it, in my own melodramatic terms), I fought it. I fought the realization and the reality. I thought pretending that it hadn't happened would bring it all back. I thought I could put back everything, like with super glue. That was the first reality check for a sixteen year old teenager, the realization that some consequences to our actions cannot be repealed. That some changes are here to stay.

So denial wasn't really going to help.

So I did the next best thing, which was something I wouldn't ever have seen myself doing. I went ahead and pretended like my whole life up until then had never existed. I refused to think about the past. And I did rather well at it. Slowly the faces that haunted my dreams began to fade. And the memories became rather vague. Names danced tantalizingly at arm's length when I needed them. Which wasn't all that often either.

Now it's just an idea... something good that I knew from a hundred years ago, and which has left a happy impression.

But it's home, and that's what makes it important.

Comments

Post a Comment

Leave an opinion!

Popular posts from this blog

Throwback: Waltzing to the Tune of Rhetoric

-
Written September 7, 2010 A dark series of squiggles make their way down and across the page, in that order. Cheap poetry and lame jokes are the order of the day. For once the silence has retreated and is content to watch from the top row of the bleachers. For once there's no raining on the court while the ball's in play. There's a rose that lies at the back of my locker, wilted and fading away. It's a rose I don't expect to see in bloom again. It's a rose I've put aside, but one I cannot bear to throw away. Perhaps I should consign it to the bonfire I've made in my backyard, out of all the relics from the past. Perhaps keeping it in my locker is dangerous, for it might bloom again. Roses such as this one have been known to bloom more beautiful than before, long long after they withered away into nothing more than thin brown sticks and faded and detached petals. And in my excitement, I might just reach out and grab it again, forgetting th
Read more

Sweet Summer Child: A Love Letter

-
Image
Photo by  Petr Ovralov  on  Unsplash Written December 9, 2016 I am not a gifting person. Years ago, someone suggested I write them something about love as a gift instead. I made many starts, completed nothing. Perhaps happiness doesn't inspire me the way sorrow does. Then last year came the first and only love letter I've ever written. Does it mean more if you write letters? May I? Dearest. When I met you, the only taste I remembered any more was the taste of ashes in my mouth. When I met you, the sun had cracked open, and loss was everywhere.  When I met you, you were a shadow, hidden among shadows, a nervous joke whispered on the winds of my thoughts.  When I met you, I was looking for a friend.  Then I met you, and the sun rose again, whole and healthier than before.  I met you, and the joke turned to undying laughter on my lips.  I met you, and I knew longing again, my soul unable to bear its weight.  I did not know you existed, and in the wee hours o
Read more

Review: Vampire Academy #2 - Frostbite

-
Image
Crossposting from Feminist Quill, written July 22, 2015 Book Title:  Frostbite Author:  Richelle Mead Year of Publication:  2008 Series:  Vampire Academy #:  2 Goodreads Rating (Avg.):  4.31 Goodreads Rating (Mine):  5 Plot Description:  The sequel to  Vampire Academy  picks up a few months after the first, showing a new stage in Rose's guardian training. Running away from the school for two years had meant that she spent the first book trying to catch up with her classmates, and  Frostbite  opens with her Qualifier exam - one which requires an external guardian to evaluate her progress. As her mentor, it seems Dimitri was able to get her an interview with one of the most legendary guardians around, and as a bonus, this means Rose gets to roadtrip alone with her crush. Her cute triumph at having scored ten hours of being alone with him soon dovetails neatly with tragedy - a Strigoi attack at their destination. And with that, Mead begins to unravel the clean cut rul
Read more