Piecing It Together

Because I can't piece together my thoughts, let alone this thing I'm trying to write, I went and started trying to read my old stuff.

I remember my younger self having so much energy! I was always juggling five or six different things in college, be they org matters, a 21-unit semester, family things, the efforts of a love life, and more.

These days I can barely get anything done. I wish I could go back to my old self, and I started reading through some old posts to make myself feel a bit better.

My old blog posts and journal writing efforts all come round to me. I remember the younger man who wrote those things. I remember the lost bits and pieces of emotion welling up in them. Some were happy. Some were sad. Some unlock little events in my life that I kept secret, even to myself, and could only be found when I read them again. Others were the exuberant bursts of a heart, that, well, nearly burst.

I remember that I almost died, many times, on the ER, in the mountains, in random allergic reactions - that means I have many reasons to eat up life and feel.

But some memories I kept real and vivid in my mind, and I never wrote about them. Sometimes because I was pledged to secrecy. Others, I didn't want the Internet to find them. I didn't want everything in my life to be too open a book, and I took to pen-and-paper diaries instead (which promptly got lost, good job). Still others, I kept a different memento - a necklace with a bronze cross, photographs, a scarf I always wore, or a phone that never rings.

I wish I wrote more about what happened to me, or that I took more pictures. I wish I had more ways to unearth memories like I did when I really, really needed to find the younger, stronger me. 

But would I really want to be the same immature young man? No. I just need to find where I drew that energy, now that I find myself so empty too often.