"The atmosphere is not a perfume--
it has no taste of the distillation--it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever--I am in love with it..."
-Song of Myself by Walt Whitman
For a few days now I have walked down memory lane. Accidentally, of course, because nobody ever really walks down that path unless there is a reason. Unless there is a trigger. Unless there is something at stake. If they are normal that is.
Yvette led me to a reminder of the way things were, back when things seemed "easy" though I have to ask myself, how easy were they? Upon being reminded of certain situations she wonders if she was insane, she says she (c)would never do any of it now. And I wonder, did we do all those thigns because we were insane, or because it was really that "easy"?
I like who I am. I am a work in progress, sure. But all in all, I like who I have become, even when at time I feel like I've become a cookie cutter version of someone's idea of "wholesome". But despite what I may say, or what people may even think, this wasn't always the case because if my essence hasn't changed, a lot has. And the person I am today is not the person I was before.
There was a time when I should have drank water but I didn't. Should have been eating my veggies, but wasn't. Should have been inhaling oxigen but didn't and should have been in bed by midnight, but wasn't.
I took things I shouldn't have taken, gave things I shouldn't have given. Wanted things I shouldn't have wanted and needed things I shouldn't have needed. I said things that were best kept secret, I did things had best been left undone. I learned things I shouldn't have learned, and I made things I definitely shouldn't have done.
Things have happened to me because I did things I wasn't suposed to do. If I couldn't leave my house through the front door, I always had an available window. I wasn't a stranger to people watching me sleep and my wallet held much more than money and keys.
Oh! the places I went and the things I have seen!
I loved people I shouldn't have loved and justified things that I now see were dead wrong. I was an accomplice to things I wouldn't think of doing now and everything my mom tried so hard to teach me didn't make sense to me up until now.
Dont' get me wrong, we were good kids. I was a good kid. Was I lost? Was I a rebel? Was I simply creating pictures for the scrapbook of my life? hard to say...All I know is that when I think back on these moments I laugh and when I read something like "was I insane?" "I would never do something like that now" I wonder if I could go back in time and be in that same situation, would I do it again?
would it make a difference?