Memories Of My Own

They’re out now, the lot of them. Out-of-town­ers who drove five hours to cel­e­brate with one of their own. People I haven’t seen in years. Seven maybe? God, I feel old. I’ve known a few of them since grade three.

But bar hop­ping isn’t my scene. There’s also this dull, nag­ging headache from stay­ing up yes­ter­day into the ear­ly morn­ing. Catching up like old times. I’m remind­ed of the sleep­overs. Summers putting on plays and learn­ing how to make piñatas at Camp Creative. Catching min­nows and cray­fish in the streams back home.

I’m a dif­fer­ent per­son now though. I was a dif­fer­ent per­son from them then even. I nev­er real­ly fit in the group.

Sometimes I look at the pic­tures of their trips and events and I think to myself, “I wish I was more social. I wish I had more mem­o­ries.”

But I know it’s not in me to be social.

I have to her­mi­tize or I get over­stim­u­lat­ed. It took me until my ear­ly twen­ties to come out of my shell. Then I think of the par­ties I’ve been to, the times I’ve had, the pic­tures I’ve tak­en, and real­ize that I do have mem­o­ries.

I have enough.

I have my own.

2 comments

  1. i just saw the pic­tures. they’re beau­ti­ful, as is the lay­out of the page. how did you get that to work with word­press? (i’m assum­ing it’s WP you’re using through­out.)

  2. Do you mean the thumb­nail gallery? It’s a lit­tle bit of CSS trick­ery (that does­n’t val­i­date, due to the alpha trans­paren­cy — but I think it’s worth it).

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