Beautiful and appropriately light - you can't dwell on these things long or they seem to run away from you. It's more a matter of trying to subtly, distantly look at your memories as though they were strangers on the subway, vaguely familiar faces whose meanings and resonances you quietly struggle to make sense of. Something is always alluring, somewhere between sadness, happiness, fear, and hope, and that inevitable nostalgia that seems capable of unfurling from even the darkest times in life, like flower from ash. But you never quite know what you're pining for....
Ah!!! Sam!! Thank you so much for reading! This is an apt and gorgeous way to put it. I am very much quietly struggling to make sense of it, and of most things. This seems to be how we lead our lives in general. Flower from ash indeed. You’re being more poetic than me on my own post and I encourage it.
For the record, we miss you in Chicago, Sam! There’s some other curly-haired ginger fellow I and my friends keep spotting around, and occasionally we think it’s you, then we laugh and reminisce for a minute, and finally we go on with our day. Best wishes. Thank you so much for commenting.
You've basically summarized high school in on sentence, Cara. "No one is their best self as a freshman in high school." Love the introspection and vulnerability in this essay. Well done.
Beautiful and appropriately light - you can't dwell on these things long or they seem to run away from you. It's more a matter of trying to subtly, distantly look at your memories as though they were strangers on the subway, vaguely familiar faces whose meanings and resonances you quietly struggle to make sense of. Something is always alluring, somewhere between sadness, happiness, fear, and hope, and that inevitable nostalgia that seems capable of unfurling from even the darkest times in life, like flower from ash. But you never quite know what you're pining for....
Ah!!! Sam!! Thank you so much for reading! This is an apt and gorgeous way to put it. I am very much quietly struggling to make sense of it, and of most things. This seems to be how we lead our lives in general. Flower from ash indeed. You’re being more poetic than me on my own post and I encourage it.
For the record, we miss you in Chicago, Sam! There’s some other curly-haired ginger fellow I and my friends keep spotting around, and occasionally we think it’s you, then we laugh and reminisce for a minute, and finally we go on with our day. Best wishes. Thank you so much for commenting.
You've basically summarized high school in on sentence, Cara. "No one is their best self as a freshman in high school." Love the introspection and vulnerability in this essay. Well done.
Yeah it’s too real. I think I actually got that turn of phrase from you saying it.