Do you ever sit and wonder what would your old self say to you? What would six years old you see when they look at you now? Would they see someone they wanted to be when they grow up? Would they feel happy? Disappointed? Shocked?
If I were to imagine a conversation between my younger self, and my present self, it’d be something like this:
Young me: Did you reach your dreams?
Me: You can say I reached some, not in the literal way I had planned, but sometimes you’ve gotta adapt to what you get.
Young me: Why can’t you change what you get if you don’t feel satisfied having it?
Me: I wish it worked like that.
Young me: Didn’t you believe in making things work your way? Do you have memories about those days?
Me: It was a belief now it’s more like a fantasy- like a poster I see everyday but can only dream of being in it. I always remember those days.
Young me: Do those memories make you happy?
Young me: Do they make you feel homesick?
Me: Every inch of me.
Young me: But homesickness is not a happy feeling.
Me: The best memories are the ones that leave us in tears.
Young me: That’s messed up.
Me: I guess messed up is the new organized.
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