The "Third-Person" Pieces 2: Nostalgic

Of late, Holly has fallen victim to a nostalgic mind set triggered by a therapeutic mental reliving of her childhood. She guesses that the bad old days seem good when your present is in limbo. She reached out to two friends from elementary school which resulted in two fun, long conversations but no returned texts. She has developed a social media crush on a guy she went to middle school with. She likes to pretend that high school never happened. 

Holly is not one of those people that wastes time wishing she could go back in time; however, she would like it if her past had grown and morphed into a present that wasn't so tragic. 

Holly listens to podcasts where positive people talk about taking charge and making changes in your life. Perhaps Holly would buy into this if change could be more strictly defined. For Holly has been open to change before, actually changed, then the horrors reappeared on time and ready to kick her 10 steps back. What is the point of change if you are just going to end up older in the same bad spot again? Wouldn't an unhappy stagnancy be the less painful choice? The solution would be to keep living to find out. Great. 

The Prom Post

 

If your social media timeline is anything like mine, you have been flooded with pics of family members and the children of friends going to the prom. These pics have made me nostalgic and a little sad, as everything does these days. I tell you, I think I have cried more this month than I have my whole life. I'm either in perimenopause or depressed, a conversation for another time. 

Anyway, my senior prom was shrouded in drama. My friends didn't want to go so I had to go with some other classmates, my date pulled out of the deal, my dress had to be tailored, I had drama with Lisha (which would later kickstart our friendship), and my big grown up night out ended in me and my friends falling asleep before midnight in a fancy hotel. What a night! 

I hated high school. I didn't have a lot of friends. However, for some reason, I was super stoked to go to my prom. I think I really wanted to get in a limo and wear a cute dress. But when I got to the prom at the Fox Theater, I just kind of swayed awkwardly and talked to folks. I was too shy to dance. 

Of late, I have thought a lot about what a me today would tell a younger me. Old Me would show up to my prom in the ratty old summer dress I am wearing as a night gown and scream at Young Me to dance. I'd tell her in a little over ten years our mom and grandma would be dead. DANCE! College would leave us in boatloads of debt. DANCE! Depression, loss, anxiety. DANCE! Knowing Young Me, I would have still wallflowered it, but Old Me would take the opportunity to shine. I see myself breakdancing, back flipping, and moonwalking while Young Me sulks in the corner. I always ease out of this fantasy with a smile on my face. It feels good to dance again.