Still, Part Of Me Misses It

I tend to glorify the past. Well, I think we all do. I think its human nature to block out the hurt and pain and embarrassment we've faced, until we're left with nothing but beautiful memories. We like to edit the movie of our lives. Maybe not. Maybe that's just me.

I quit smoking. I'm no longer particularly craving the nicotine, but more, craving the habit. I've gotten out of wanting one when I'm driving or right after a meal. I'm not desperate for something to do with my hands when I'm sitting around. I can even sit in a bar or at a party without the constant desire. I don't want one, and yet, I miss them. I miss the way the smoke curled up from my hand in the cool night air. I miss the way they would elegantly sit poised between my fingers. I miss the crackling sound the tip makes when it's first introduced to a flame. I miss the idea of them. I've made them into this beautiful, graceful, mysterious memory, when in fact they're disgusting, and I know that. They turned my fingers and teeth yellow, filled my lungs with soot, and engulfed my every possession with their smell. They made me feel awful. I hate smoking. Still, part of me misses it.

I was miserable at Kalamazoo. Not the entire time, mind you. I loved (and still love) my friends there, but it wasn't enough. I was unhappy. I didn't like the size or location or setting and I missed home, missed the alternate life I could be leading, so I left to go lead it. At idle moments I regret leaving. Things would have been so much simpler for me had I stayed, and I genuinely miss that kind of simplicity. There was a straight and narrow path to be lead, one that didn't require too much thinking or decision making or emotional investment, and I chose to take the path less traveled. I chose to struggle and fail and be lost and confused. In essence, I chose to screw myself over. Sometimes I hunger to take it back. I watch my friends go through their requirements at school with set plans for their lives. To get from point A to point B they know what they need to do. I don't. I don't even have a point B. At Kalamazoo I was writing more. No, at Kalamazoo, I was a writer. That was how I would spend all of my free time. I was really thinking about my life and the world and how I fit in. I knew it wasn't there. I knew my life needed to be bigger than that. I knew I had to leave Kalamazoo. Still, part of me misses it.

I've spent nearly all of my money this summer on concerts. I don't regret it. I love a good show, especially if it involves seeing it with the people I love. It's just that I remember a time where concerts were a huge ordeal. Going to a concert meant finding the money to fund it, a way to get there and back, some form of alcohol, excuses to tell parents, places to sleep, a myriad of important details. It took so much planning that by the time we actually got into the concert, it was amazing no matter who was playing or what they were playing. A drunken night on the lawn at the tweeter center was worth everything in the world. Now, we just go online a few days before, order some tickets, hop in the car, pick up some beer and go down. Yeah, it's easier and more convenient, but every once and a while, I'd love to have the journey back. I hated the stress of figuring everything out, making it all work for everyone, trying so desperately (and sometimes failing) to get beer. Still, part of me misses it.

For so long, Springside was my everything. I'd spend 12 hours a day there minimum, and the rest of my time thinking about the events and people there. High school was my whole world at the time. I tell everyone, including myself, that I loved high school, and I believe that I did. I loved it the way you love a friend, where you're willing to forget any arguments or heartaches that happen because the good times outnumber all the bad. I often reflect on it, and admittedly sometimes want to just return, want to turn back the clock to senior year and replay it over and over again. The thing is, I wouldn't give up what I've learned in the past 2 years for anything. Yes, I was naively optimistic, and it would be so much easier had that never ended, had I just gotten to live with that skewed view of how the world worked forever, but I can't. I know better now, and there's no turning back. There's only forward. I know that there were things I hated about high school. I know there were times when I would have done nearly anything to escape. I know I was a close-minded girl living in a close-minded world. Still, part of me misses it.

I tend to glorify the past. In my past, there have certainly been times that were not nearly as beautiful as I remember them. In my past, there have certainly been times of pain and humiliation and embarrassment. In my past, there have certainly been times that I would never want to relive, let alone remember. Still, part of me misses it. Maybe that's just me.