Living through Old Memories

It’s a little bit funny looking back through all these old journals.
I see the dates, I read the words. I laugh at the humor I made of my own misery, the onomatopia of my heart and mind screaming.
And I find an entry, hidden amongst all the bullshit, that mentions a little bit of you.
The first time I let you penetrate my life by letting you into my journal.

I read the entry, and close my eyes. I let the movie run in my mind as if it were happening right in front of me. The touch of your hand for the first time, staring into your eyes. Thinking about how gorgeous you were to me at first glance, and the pang of jealousy I felt to see how much attention you were getting from everyone else.
And just like that, you’re gone again… convinced, at the time, that you would later be a faded memory, I moved on. And ironically, now I cannot.

Living through my old memories feels refreshing sometimes. But I can’t seem to get you out of my mind. What seemed so easy to do so long ago now seems like an impossible task, while the issues that plagued me so much at the time are now faded memories themselves.
It makes me wonder if I could walk backward through time if my life would be any different.
Any different at all…