if you’re me

If you’re me, you remember how it used to be so easy to pretend that you weren’t human. Not that you’re superhuman (though that would be dope — if I could have a superpower, it would be Invisibility), but that, in the words of J.Cole, “I don’t mind ’cause I don’t matter”. You were so good at ignoring emotions, since they obviously were just neurological relics of earlier humans. You lived that I-don’t-give-a-damn-what-you-think-about-me mentality so well that you almost fooled yourself.

And, if you’re me, you will clearly recall the times you wish you could, just, go back in time, like how I want to go back and restart and re-word this sentence. (Of course, I could backspace, but that would defeat the point.) (I take back what I said earlier: Time Travel would be my superpower.) Not that you would have said anything different, but that you would have considered that, in the words of my wise grandfather, “the Junior knoweth not that he knoweth”. You, despite not being Christian, took this extension of Corinthians 8:2 to heart, and became some level of aware of your blindness, and your capacity to right the future, even if the past is unalterable.

If you are me (aside: ‘Me, I’m talking to you!’), then you can recognize when you’re in the wrong. Not that you necessarily can trace how you got there, but that, at some point, in the words of Black Dynamite, “You done fucked up!” You would, if you knew how, muster the strength to apologize to each and every person you’ve wronged on any level, and do whatever you could to do right by them.


On the off chance that you are me, and you can time travel, go back. Don’t do anything differently, however. Just pay more attention to other people than yourself. Don’t dwell too much, though; one cannot be led by a shadow. Move forward. Think positive. You’re getting better each day, whether you know it or not.

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It’s Funny

It’s funny how your perceptions change with age. Do you remember your last visit to your elementary school? How small the chairs were? The tiny toilets? How that chair-rail on the wall used to be at eye level?

Do you remember your last visit to your grandparents’ house? How you used to slide down the stairs head-first and not fear crashing through the window at the base (because you wouldn’t build up enough momentum back then, and if not for this, you would still be doing it)? The sensation of all the body warmth trapped in the tiny living room? That final goodnight? That nervous goodbye?

It’s funny how your eyes are drawn to different things as you grow older. The stucco walls no longer catch your attention. The pit in the cafeteria is more like a divot the floor of a whitewashed cave. Those fancy Papermate mechanical pencils don’t looks so special anymore.

Do you remember when marching band used to be fun? When it wasn’t a rearrangement of the same already-experienced experiences? How tests used to scare you? How getting tests back used to scare you? How you used to try to come up with a coherent response to the plaguing question “Where are you going to go to college”?

It’s funny how you stop using that diary app when times are good, so that when you look back, and read all those negative combinations of words, and remember how lost you sometimes felt, and how you didn’t feel like you had anyone you could really trust anymore, when in reality you had a dozen just waiting for you to initiate a friendship, you doubt your sanity just a little bit. It’s funny how reluctant you are to let go of failing friendships when you doubt your ability to forge new ones.

Do you remember the last best friend you made? How you used to cry from laughing so hard? How you used to smile those finally-someone-understands-me smiles? How your adventures used to seem special, 1/1 for both of you, and not 1/100 for them? How you still felt that connection that best friends have, and didn’t have doubts about your importance to them? Because if you really do matter that much, why is it so $#@*&^ hard to even make plans?

It’s funny how hard it is to be happy when looking in the mirror. How losing 20 pounds isn’t enough, and minutely changing hairstyles, or getting new glasses, becomes so irrelevant so quickly. How all the clothes look the same and give off the image of a different person.

Do you remember the last audition that you left feeling satisfied? How first chair used to matter, or region band used to be some moderate sort of honor? How it felt before that one !$@*^@# audition changed everything?

It’s funny how you can dedicate months toward learning three pieces of music, countless lessons and hours, and moments of pure stress and confusion, and still come out broke on the other side. How failing means missing All-State by two chairs, and that all the pressure came from yourself.

Do you remember the last time you knew where you stood with your friends? How you used to have a group of people you could trust and confide in? How, even if you fussed, you knew they had your back?

It’s funny how easy it is to want to throw in the towel. To just give in/up/not a damn about what happens. The nihilism sets in, and then the vague depression — in that the whole %$*&# deal seems pointless –, and then, out of nowhere, something happens. Anything, really. A dog dies. A friend is made. A test is 100’d (since getting an A is not enough). And you snap out of it.

Do you remember the last day that you didn’t want to take back something you said? (Of course not.) Or when you made it a full 24 hours without… I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.

I think I just got something off my chest, somewhere in there… honestly I’m not sure.