Passed

I once ran into a girl I knew from another life.

In one confusing glance, 82 questions flashed in my brain and an unspoken hysteria of bewilderment danced between us.

I couldn't remember her name at the moment, but I knew everything she was and everything about her like it had only been a day since we'd spoken last. Names were a small matter compared to the person I knew her to be.

The funny thing was, I had just barely remembered this happened a couple minutes ago. I hadn't even remembered that I had stumbled upon a long lost life, sleeping in the crevices of my subconscious until now. But I never got to ask my questions to her, and I want to find her.

I wonder how she is. I wonder where she went. I wonder what she's thought through.
Has she had challenges? Has she had heartbreak? Has she found her dreams? How is her family? What is she doing with her life?


I mean, it's not a life/death situation, but I have a strong desire to find her, and reminisce with her. I want to remember how she was and in doing so find an younger version of myself.
I want to know how far I've come from then. To see how she has changed and how I have from each other and from ourselves.

Because, lately, that whole "past" thing seems too far away to return to, but too close to place in a dusty urn next to my baby dresses and popsicle stick projects in the back of my closet.

I think it's frightening that in that one moment, as we were rushing past each other, both frustrated that all we had time for was a "hello" and an interrupted reunion, I was able to feel every emotion and every memory from her and she, I.


No time has passed. Every last drop of time we have has passed.

All of it seems surreal when I look back on my life. There seems to be a ton of it.

Floodgate #73

Good Morning, world.

Oh, look at the time...

As usual, I only write in the dead of winter. AKA 3 in the morning.

Also, the big elephant in the room has decided to play dead. So we can just ignore this whole "Why was she gone for a buncha months.?" business and get back to work.

But if you insist, you can e-mail the elephant.

But I digress..

Good Morning, world.

Firstly, a few questions must be answered:

1. I am in New York City, the center of the Universe, until August. I have been here for a month.

2. I eventually will get a job. I think.

3. I'm staying with my Nana, Vivian, who is one of the most spectacular individuals I have had the pleasure of being family members with.

4. I turned 19, once.

5. I'm done with a year of college.

6. Yes, I still hate hair.

Secondly, a few questions must be posed.

As previously mentioned, I've been here in NY for a month. I haven't even written on this lovely bloggyblog of mine for a billion years. 

And so, as usual, my brain has imploded upon itself with endless questions about life, love, the pursuit of sanity, and other incessant pests to my peace and quiet.

It's incredibly eye-opening being in this place for multiple reasons.

1. People. Are. Crazy.

2. My Family. Is. Crazy.

And I don't mean crazy in the "aww-shucks-we-have-our-disagreements-but-we-all-get-along-in-the-end" mushy type crazy. I mean the "how-are-any-of-you-still-living-in-this-world-without-any-therapist-bankruptcy" type crazy.

What I have now come to realize is that nobody is an adult.

I at first was angry with this notion. No. I was irate.

People aren't responsible with their emotions. People do not do what they say they are going to do. People are mean to each other, even when they say that they wish the world were a better place. They don't use the justice system properly. They lie. They cheat. They WHINE. They sue. They pout. They do stupid things, say stupid things, breathe STUPIDLY. They are greedy. They are hypocrites.

They make their children into raging lunatics. They blame inanimate objects, unaccountable circumstances, and the faultless. People. are. crazy. Irritating.

But the hardest thing to accept, was that it was all of humanity that does it. 

Even my friends.

Even my family.

Even people I look up to.

Even me.

My family is crazy.

They are people.

I still sometimes hate all of it. I curse at the universe and ask why people have not learned by now. Learned of reality. Learned to get freaking priorities straight. Why don't people grow up already and perfect themselves?

And in the end, I drink in a large quantity of air and force my body to relax. Because there is no point.

People will do what they do best. That is: Make mistakes.

We make mistakes in trying to find what makes each of us happy. We're children, truly. Trying to stand so we can walk. Trying to talk so we can express. Trying to grasp so we can bear.

Apparently, I can't change the world in one fell swoop.

But I can change MY world, and even then it's by small increments of time, sweat, tears, blood, and palms to the face.

Line upon line. Precept upon precept.

I still have questions. It's why I can't ever delete this blog, as much as I hate the Universe of Blogging. And the Universe of Life for that matter.

I still have questions for it that can only be answered by my asking them.