Things get foggy

So I went out tonight with a couple of my favorite gal pals. (Hello, girls, if you are reading this. Now stop Facebook stalking and get back to work!) Oh dear, this is probably why I shouldn’t blog at nearly 3:00 in the morning. I never use the term gal pals, but I wanted to get a post out before I halted them for the weekend.

Anyway, over dessert and coffee we somehow landed on the subject of my life in high school. For whatever reason, I have been rather guarded about my past before college with my friends here. I had, in a sense, boxed it up, put it on a shelf deep in the back of the vast warehouse that is my memory bank, and more or less forgotten about it. Lately, though, as I approach yet another major transition in life, I have been thinking back on that young girl perpetually sitting in the annals of my personal history. In reality, it was not that long ago, just a few years, but she couldn’t seem farther away from me in time. When I think back to her, she seems alien to me, and I realize how much change someone can experience in such a short time. I have tried to reconstruct her mentality, recall her hopes and fears, and recollect her worldview. Every time I try to do this, though, details slip through my fingers. I am left with that elusive haze that inexplicably surrounds our memories, and I never end up with the full picture. Instead I stand holding a few memories, a mental highlight reel, but no explanations.

I don’t know that girl anymore, and I doubt that if we met on the street, she would know me either. The historian in me wishes I could go back to that time and interview my sixteen year old self, get inside her head, get the whole story again, and recapture myself. This is not possible, and she’s gone now, slipped away forever. Her story grows murky as I move away from her, and I suspect it will become even more so the farther I go. I can’t help but wonder, will the me of six years from now feel the same way about the me of right now? Is life a continuous process of losing yourself? Growing up is a strange business.

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