With every year

  1. I looked at my old lists. And I thought about the way I've changed since then.
  2. I'm so much more serious now. Charlie from a year ago was foolish, strangely positive, and he seems childish regularly.
    I wrote things I would never imagine writing today. Things which lacked care. The locution of a 17 year old. No doubt I'll feel similarly about my 18 year old self a year from now unless things slow down (as if).
  3. I want to go back and show young me what awaits him. The pain of existence and the fracturing of growth. The bittersweet aging of the self through being.
    And the beauty.
  4. I would treasure more. I would honor the moment, as bad as it seemed at some times. There are, so continually, good bits in the bad. Existence rarely levies total annihilation at her keepers.
  5. I would observe. I wouldn't worry so much. I would back off. I would meditate. I would slow down. I would feel everything again.
  6. I shouldn't cringe at my past self. But he makes me laugh. He's so young and he doesn't know the breadth of growing he's about to do. All painful. Some parts beautifully so. Occasionally a break or two.
  7. I just want to go back. Put a hand on his shoulder. And explain. And I can only hope he'd understand.
    I wish I could feel his youth. His naivety. It's so precious. He'd already been through so much. His grand mother had died months before. I stumbled on a photo of her tonight.
  8. To jump into it. I'd hug her. I'd mow her lawn for her. I still remember how that chair feels. What the carpet on the hardwood is like beneath shoes. How great her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were. I'd tell her how much I love talking to her. She is the best listener I've ever known. She put up with my chaotic young mind ha.
    I miss her.
  9. I miss a lot.
  10. Inexplicable sorrow awaits us all. I'm ready to meet it. To let it better me.
    I'm also ready for confounding joy after this year of sorrow and confusion at the behest of mounting the cusp of adulthood (and discovering the myths of maturity and logic have fled from it.)
  11. What a lovely warm memory I feel floating by on my periphery. I intend to curl myself up in it. I will be sound asleep in such a memory. What a splendid nature.