a quiet walk back in the first snow of the year

there is something about snow that takes me back to last year

this time last year,

I had WH and JKm

and I had this coat and this breath of cold air and these yellow street lights

these I still have.

there exist those I no longer have

but

I did not have these white leather high tops

or these jeans

or this hair

———————-

the snow gathers at the tip of my shoes like a dollop

quiet

peace

it’s a group of black figures hurling their joyful bodies in the snow at 1:30am

it’s a trudge up 3 flights of stairs and an empty room and a sigh

and a solitude

it’s a fresh, thin coat

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On Revising the Past

Relevant to my recent reflections two posts ago.

It doesn’t seem right to revise an old text severely, as if trying to obliterate it, hiding the evidence that one had to go there to get here. It is rather in the feminist mode to let one’s changes of mind, and the processes of change, stand as evidence.

– Ursula Le Guin

The Horror That Comes When You Read Your Old Posts

My goodness. I actually hate my old self.

2011 me? Spoiled, sheltered, petty little freshman girl with no confidence and no empathy. She’s self-centered, and not even in a reflective sort of way – she’s wrapped up in the coming and goings of her mundane, boring everyday life. Like, what I ate for breakfast, and the exact happenings in my speech and debate class were of utmost importance. Mortified.

2012 me is marginally better, but really not by much. I was still a largely awful person.

2013, junior year, I make a leap. My grammar improves; I start capitalizing my I’s. I have friends. I start trusting people. I start caring about others (well, somewhat). My posts deal more with larger trends in my daily life than a post literally on each day (thank god that ended). What caused that?

I guess Interlochen, but more specifically, meeting friends and feeling like I belonged for the first time. Seeing people be comfortable in their own skin, and kind to other people despite their ‘weirdness’.

I guess also my grandfather dying. I think I had to feel more than I ever did before.

Senior year, 2014. Wrapped up with boys now, and reflective posts, I think, most of them really not about my daily life at all. I like myself here more- though flawed, at least I know it.