Monday, December 13, 2010

A living memory

After having my hair cut, there is a honeymoon period where my hair is conditioned with that special stuff from the hairdressers. I'll say this much: the honeymoon is over. As I woke up my first reaction was with shock. My thought:

I'M 18 YEARS OLD AGAIN!!!

This is very much the hair, and face I had when I was 18. Seeing that version of me again was unwelcome. Much of my life is about not just how far I've come from the shit that happened during my Masters, but also the shit that happened when I was 18, namely, the depression. When I was 18 the greatest thing happened to me and the worst thing happened to me, and they are contiguously the same thing. I got good 'A' Levels, went to a good university, and then went to university. As I started university I found that I didn't make as many friends, I was isolated and my grades weren't as good. I started feeling a sense of self-resent and I started crying in public. I felt everything was falling apart.

This realisation took me to another place this morning. Namely, being 18. As a 24 year old who is self conscious about the big 25, I felt that being 18 was a little bit of a novelty but also an unwelcome one, it felt like all the effort and things that happened since then , didn't happen and I lost so much of my life and not just any part of my life: the really good stuff, as well as the really bad. All of it makes me who I am all the same.

Anyway, after a shitload of hairspray I feel ready to face myself. I really see the need to comb my hair. Am I becoming my mum? Well, at least my hair's still longer than hers. That makes me the elegant one in the house. Perhaps I'm glad I didn't cut all of my hair off. I still have things to deal with.

Anyway, I should focus on the present, being an 18 year old is the last place I want to be. I have an interview, I woke up early and spent the first hour grooming. Now I'm listening to spotify and tracks I like. I feel like I need to shit, but I know I need to wait a little longer to excise my bowels. I think I need to talk to one of my friends, a girl who knew me more than anyone when I was 18. If I woke up as an 18 year old in 2010, she's the one I'd need help from. I was in love with her once...

Oh boy, some stories I'm tired of telling. Anything from when I was 18 especially. I really don't want to have to bring up the past. And this is from a guy who ALWAYS bring up the past.

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