Why do I have so many memories of being stupid, and doing stupid things, and thinking stupid things? Am I doomed to stupidity memories forever? I've been thinking about how I would feel in twenty years about my obsession with Broom Curls. I want to say I would agree with my present self, that I have reason to be depressed, obsessed, and inconsolable. I'm not so sure, though. If I'm singing lullabyes to my little daughter, could I really feel that any part of the life that brought me there wasn't worth it?
This, I guess, has to do with accepting the past. It doesn't matter what would be best. What's happened has happened, and it's time to move on. Of course, no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I know that Curls is still a part of the present. I can continue to spend my life seeking her favor with a minuscule chance of return, or I can continue on with what I have, with no chance of spending my life with her at all. It's a gamble.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment