As I go through my Facebook photos, sadness comes over me. Sadness and regret. Every memory that I have, every picture I look at, I remember that phase of my life and I just wish I could tell myself the things I know now. Tell younger me to enjoy the moments a little more, to know they don't last.
Nothing ever does seem to last, does it? Every moment is a fleeting one, gone before you know it.
Every day of my life, I try to be better than I am at that moment. Try to be the best I could be. To live life the fullest, best way I can. To experience all that is given to me. But when I look back, I realize with great sadness that my happy moments, the moments in which I accept myself and my life, are slim. I can look back on the life I've had so far and the moments of happiness just pass too quickly.
The doubts I have in myself are many. The hardest thing seems to be, to let myself be happy. Allow myself to feel loved by the people that I know do love me.
Why is it so much easier to think of ways to make sure my happiness won't last? Easier than to imagine ways to ensure my being happy and healthy.
Sometimes I feel like I try to live multiple lives at once. Experiencing the whole of being at the same time. Doing that, it's no big surprise I'm never happy, never satisfied.
I just wish I could love myself a little more, the me I am now. Not the me of so many years ago, who is easy to love, because she is gone forever, will never be back. So safe, to love the past versions of yourself. So scary, to love your current self. With every flaw and every fault and every feeling of doubt and self loathing. To turn all that into love, takes years.
Time, I have plenty. Patience, not so much.
Memories are all we have in the end. So I try to make as many good memories as I can, so that I can remember happiness more profound.
Smell is a big part of memories for me. Or sound. I associate feeling with smell and sound or movement. Any trigger can be so powerful. Especially since I can't surround myself with smells anymore.
Since I started dancing, I created many beautiful memories. When I hear a specific song, I'm immediately back on the dance floor, remembering a beautiful connection with someone else. To connect that way, with a complete stranger, it's something magical to me. I have such issues trusting people, letting them close, letting them know me. I don't know how to talk to people that I don't know, never know what to talk about. But when dancing, you don't have to talk. You converse in a completely different way. Sometimes, after a dance, you feel like you know someone, intimately, just for a moment. Then you walk away, the connection disappears, but you leave a bit of yourself behind.
A memory.
Of something beautiful.
Something beautiful...
~ Cinderella ~
