The truth is… this summer I’ve been actively avoiding reality. And the truth is, the time has come for me to take it back on again has come too soon. Truth is, I’m almost two decades old and I’m almost an adult (not yet). But the truth is I’ll always be my parents’ youngest and always a child.
Walking through the city today with my parents, in somewhat of a cold distant manner, I started thinking about who I was in the context of my parents. Am I really the outcome of some genealogy? Have I really inherited the traits I see in both my parents, things I both like and despise? A lot of people would say no – everyone’s their own individual and has their own experiences. When I told my mom that, she seemed disappointed in not wanting to be apart of some big genetic history. And I don’t. I’m far from being perfect in any shape or form, but there are characteristics that I saw in my parents that I wish to never inherit or find in myself. (Sorry mom, if you read this.) But that’s the truth. I also wish they’d stop thinking I’ll end up like them if I do one sort of action over another. Maybe they’re right – that history tends to repeat itself if following a certain pattern – but I like to think otherwise. Like I said before, everyone has their own experiences and learning curves.
Truth is, I’ve broken down this past week emotionally. I untied everything and just watched it all fall down. I so actively ignored my reality that I never realized how tightly I held onto it. But the truth is, I’ve been thrown into a new world, and thought I couldn’t navigate it gracefully, when it was really been on auto-pilot the whole time. I saw the Lion King again on Broadway, and it almost teared me up at the ‘he lives in you’ sequence. He never really loses his father and he never really loses himself; he just forgot who he was for a bit. I couldn’t explain why this year, no matter how broken I became, things ultimately worked out somehow. Things almost just randomly appeared in thin air when I needed them the most and it’s just a matter of time before I remember who I am too. I guess that has a lot of different meanings for people, but I mean that in a the ultimate metaphorical sense. To a point where I don’t understand what I’m trying to say myself.
It’s been a stressful long day, and I’m running on about four hours of sleep so forgive me if I don’t make any sense.