I have a very bad habit of living in the past. Something very good in the present will happen to me – of the times I allow myself to actually LIVE in the present – and then I smother it. Hold on to it with everything I have because I don’t want to lose that feeling. So fearful that I may never feel it again.
And so it is with this. It’s the third anniversary of this taking place today. Would it even mean this much to anybody else? Probably not. For most it would just be deemed a little “added extra” to an otherwise good day. Or perhaps a nice touch to a mediocre day. Either way, their day would have just been somewhat enhanced…a little.
For me though? It felt as though I had been defibrillated. Quite literally. The pace my heart ran at upon waking up and seeing this on the morning of January 5th, 2016 was nothing short of life affirming. It actually felt like I had been brought to life.
But how silly is that? I mean what exactly was it at the end of the day? Just some little doodle I made that some rock star liked? In the grand scheme of things…what did it actually mean and achieve? It’s just a poster. History.
Don’t mind me…I am in the stranglehold of melancholy right now.
I need to find my happy place again. And I am really not sure where that is right now. If I am still needing a crutch, then I haven’t found it, have I? Is it just an illusion? The “happy place”? Utopia…
