I promised myself quite a while ago that this blog wouldn't turn into a place where I would pour my heart out about recent loves or broken hearts. I made a commitment to myself, and to my lovely sneezeweed, that I would make every effort to keep my romantic relationships off the blog. I am no Carrie Bradshaw, and this is supposed to be a space for self-discovery and a closer look at the confusing beauty of life. I also realize that like me, this blog is a work in progress and there are welcomed surprises around every corner.
With that said, I'm here to tell you there is a boy. This isn't just any boy, this is the one boy that carved himself a lovely little nook in the back of my mind four years ago. He hibernated back there, only peeking out once in a blue moon to remind me of his presence before receding back inside for another long sleep. Well, apparently my brain has the seasons mixed up and instead of seeing golden leaves and warm sweaters, the boy is seeing lovely spring flowers with dew covered leaves, and he is climbing out of the little nook in the back of my mind, launching me back to my eighteen-year-old self that met him so long ago.
Part of me really does want to believe that this is "just one of those things," that this too shall pass, and that he will soon realize that it is indeed autumn and his eyes will grow heavy as he crawls back into the nook. The other part of me knows, really knows, that this is one of life's moments that really matters. I am sitting here in awe of how cyclic our story has become. I was shocked to realize that I feel just as giddy and comfortable as I did with him when I was fresh out of high school. Nothing brought these feelings back more than an old journal entry I shuffled around for, one that I can remember physically writing after the end of round one:
Sometimes I feel like all I am doing is running. Wether after or away from something or someone, Im always short of breath. Im always on the go. And this time I just want to stop and let whatever is behind me catch up. I want to breath air slow and deep. I want to look all around me and take in the wonder. But I dont want to do it alone. I am afraid if I stop, and what I really want is in front of me and not behind me, Ill get the air. But not the boy. I dont understand why I have such a soft spot for him. I dont know why my mind always wanders back to thoughts of him. I dont even know why I like him so much when so often he lets me down. But for some reason I feel like I would take him back a hundred times over if it would result in what Im looking for. I just want to stop running. Take the deepest breath I can bare, and make a wish that he will come running up behind me. I want him to be standing next to me when I take in this world around me. I dont want to be running here alone anymore, I want the air and the boy.
Now, don't you worry. I won't judge anyone who feels the need to excuse themselves from the post for a minute to go vomit after reading my sappy sappy eighteen-year-old entry (frankly, I wanted to myself), but the point is, this feeling I have now is exactly the same. It's like every thought and emotion that I had then came rushing back to me, right down to the tingle in the tips of my fingers. Moments that I had only dreamed up, conversations that I only imagined are playing themselves out in my real life.
And you should know, as I sit here and write all this I am struggling to get the words out. I feel as if I am stumbling and fumbling over every sentence, and came close to hitting the big delete button several times. But somehow, it seems beyond appropriate that I am having such trouble figuring out how to say what I am feeling because it's just one of those things that can't be put into words. It's a pit in my stomach, it's a lightheadedness, it's a jitter in my fingers, and a restlessness in my legs. It's possibly the greatest, most sickening feeling ever. And it is so familiar.
Circles baby, life is circles. And I am living mine round and round.