Sunday, May 1, 2011

Myself is myself is me is I is simply, well, me.

Isn't it funny how we sometimes in order to re-connect with ourselves not only revisit memories, but we revisit old friendships, whether verbally or through memories of those people? We revisit our favorite songs and movies, our favorite books and past-times.
I like to sometimes recall vividly memories though.
I like to let them play out in my head. You see, I have a photographic memory. I recall things in vivid detail, right down to the words said. I think it is the writer in me.
I will recall your voice. Your smell. Your words.  Always, always your laugh. Ever notice that it is easier to remember someone's laugh than their voice? It's joy captured in sound. I always remember your laughter.
I remember often what I was wearing, what you were wearing...sometimes, I recall odd little details. I recall the things I noticed. I often notice odd things.
My past isn't always a pretty thing to recall. There are moments I wish to forget. Yet, there are brilliant times I'll never want erased.
I have for a very long time been the same inside.
I have liked much of the same things for years.
I have been drawn to certain things my whole life.
Trees, doves, harps, redheads, swords, dragons, the ocean, the beach, the stars, the moon, blue eyes, wind, willows, soft things.
I have hated many things my whole life.
Bees, wasps, buzzing, scratching, liars, nasty couches and carpet, evil dogs, mosquitoes, cole slaw, things too hot on my sensitve feet, rough fabrics.
It's funny how things don't change.
At least, inside me.
I've always been the rebel; some say I march to the beat of my own drum. I actually don't march to a drum, it's more of a melody, really. A melody of voices, memories, thoughts and feelings. It's a nice melody. Most days.

~Elizabeth

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