Here are some thoughts I wrote coming down from shrooms. And edited sometime after that trip. To a song by my favourite band and violently recalling versions of myself I didn’t want to remember. But I did it because I finally understood that I’d changed. There’s no way I haven’t. Come on now. There’s no way.
You can only articulate so much. I could say it was me confronting disillusionment and the pain it leaves. Will I spend my entire life trying to recreate it or will I just feel it in the moment? Will it always be something only I’ll know to be? It’s a bittersweet conclusion I’ve bought myself into tonight. It’s a lonely one, but I love the feeling of being able to put an arm or seven million around myself. I love the feeling of looking around and seeing everything and everyone I’ve fought for and believing that nothing, not even my own worst nightmares, will ever be bigger than this.
I wonder to myself, I can’t be the only person going through this. Are we all going through this? I’m not sure. I just know there’s more to every person than I will ever know. There’s more to me than I will understand tomorrow morning. What a scary thought. I know it will be hard. A thought worth only a sentence reflecting on. At least for this paragraph. Because even when tomorrow comes, I will still choose to be myself and depend on who I’ve become.
At this point, it’s not angst. It’s a type of resilience that understands and remembers everything that took to be here. That remembers every person I’ve been and every emotion I’ve felt. Every single thing I’ve said that I wish I never had. Every single thing I did that I wish I’d never done. If humility didn’t sting, would it ever really humble you? Would it ever force me to turn around and say I want to do better?
What a conundrum. To learn from your mistakes yet to not let them define you. I’ll just call it a day or maybe just call it being in your 20s.
Not the first time I’ve thought this. But this time, I won’t be afraid to feel afraid. Even when I am, because some days or weeks, I am. There will always be a knot in my insides that I can’t deny. But I recognize that being vulnerable is what pushes me to be myself and is in essence being myself. Who, I’m not sure if I was clear enough, is more than dependable and definitely cut out for this shit.
Still don’t know what being spiritual really means, but it’s the only way I can describe what I’m going through. Something along the lines of coming back home to myself—my humanness, my resilience, my weaknesses, my fears, my dreams, my hopes. The terrifying way sometimes they all look the same depending on if I love myself or not. Remembering exactly who I am by allowing and accepting whoever that is. And through that acceptance, I watch her become someone I never imagined myself to have become. I’m scared.
Standing face to face with what I’ve always wanted, I want to ask the universe to just wait a second. Could we sit down for a second? I just need to understand. I start running backwards trying to remember every little detail of my little life. There’s memories I can accept and memories I’ve no clue what to do with. There are people I don’t want to remember and moments I don’t even bother remembering.
Moments that make me wish I could stop the entire world from turning. Yes, the entire planet. Where I wish I could go back to before. Before the disillusionment. Before the crash I’d foreseen months before it’d happened. Simpler times when I gave without worrying if I’d ever have enough to give. And times where being careful wasn’t second nature. I’d spend that time walking along busy roads like I used to when I just needed to think, preoccupied by my thoughts to even notice that I was lonely. Times when strangers were friends, getting high felt like another shot at life, and when a bad day meant I got to spend time with people who shared that pain.
I know I can’t go back in time. And I know I shouldn’t even if I could. So I write this little thinkpiece and think I will call it a day.