Lately I’ve found that there’s a longing to visit locations and friends from my past. Locations and friends that not only helped raise me but also made me realize that there is so much more I could be. Tattoos and memories, integral to my development and well being, of which I held so near and dear to my heart. I sought solace in believing that they would always be there, the same ways in which they live in my memory; flawless, eternal and almost god-like until finally I realize that these friends are human and the locations are physical. All of this was nothing more than an idealist fantasy, made believable through my own childhood ignorance, denial, and wishful thinking
In 2018 I came to realize that one can become addicted to a certain kind of sadness. For me, it is a certain form of sadness which results from loss. The loss of an old friend, the loss of an irreplaceable possession, or the loss of a location where one had many positive childhood experiences. Experiences, accomplishments, and accolades turn bittersweet all too soon, filling our minds and parlance with stories of days gone by, almost reminiscent of old times, resurrected as if the past were suddenly somehow superior to present.
And then there are regrets. From a very young age, I had regrets, coupled with the classic and typical, trivial and mundane, fears of childhood. There are so many things I wished I could have done, things I should have done, and perhaps a few things that I should never have done. But it’s too late now to change the past; all I can do at this point is to say that I’m sorry for everything I have done in my past which was wrong, was a mistake on my part, or worst of all, hurt someone in some way.
“People sometimes ask me if I could start my life over again, would I have done things differently? Truth is, if I could do it all again, I would have changed it all.”Thomas Slatin
When I was 16, I had my first taste of love. I thought I knew what love was back then, but what did I really know? I realize now that my feelings
When I was 18, I would become professionally certified as an Emergency Medical Technician in New York State, then at 20, I would earn a second certification as a Firefighter. The local newspaper, the
On the morning of February 23, 2013, my father passed away at age 97. I was 33 at the time. It was an enormous loss, considering that my father had often joked that he would live forever, and in the handful of
I realize now that the older I get, the less impulsive I become, yet the same simple fears still cloud my mind. Fears that if I focus enough, I can almost trace them to my youth. I remember seeking the advice of my high school English teacher in my senior year, who suggested that I devote my life to writing. Later on that year, I sought out the advice of my art teacher, who taught me an enormous amount about philosophy, yet ironically, very little about art. Both teachers gave me the advice to take a good, concentrated look at where one is in life every so often to appreciate what one has accomplished and as a means to determine and evaluate ones future goals and plans. Since then I have made a
Not Taking Enough Pictures Is Something I Regret | Will The Memories Die? | Snapshots And Memories And Days Of My Youth | I Used To Be A Habitual Trespasser | Some Ways To Help Deal With Loss | Fears And Regrets | Chasing Cars