A Day Called Way Back When

There was something inside of me, or something in me that was aware.
Understand?
There was something that knew a day would come when I would look back and remember this.
But I would see this in hindsight and notice the flags that stuck out.
I do believe in the inherent foreshadowing that leaves a brief moment of awareness and proves that time is short.
This means I need to pay attention.
No?

I believe in the spark of intuitive understanding, and that somehow, the mind awakens.
There is a thought and a moment of emotional awareness that screams to us. This is like the mind telling us to note that times like this will not last forever.
So, make it worthwhile.

We tend to take abundance for granted. Days, times, moments and opportunities can be wasted.
No, really. This is true.
Why else would they say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone?

Or should I keep this about me and say that this is me. There are memories I have which stick out like a page holder in my unraveling book. I knew that there was something happening.
I knew that news was coming my way.
There are times when I saw this anxiously, like if I dig back, I can see this the same as when I was a bad kid in school.
I knew the note was in the mail and on its way home. I knew that I was in trouble and sooner or later, I knew that the letter would make its way to the mailbox and that my consequences were on the way.

I remember the times when I misbehaved, and yes, I agree with the line from a movie. I agree with the main character Ferris. This comes from the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day off, when he said, “Being bad feels pretty good.”

I get it! This does feel pretty good.
No?
I get this because there are times when being bad feels better than good. But again, if I should keep this about me, then let me keep this to me.
However, let me expose this with hopes that perhaps you understand. Let me explains so that you find that this is relatable or, at minimum, I am valid enough to be understood.

I remember one of my first LSD trips. I remember thinking that I was about to go crazy. I also believed that somehow this was going to lead me to something unfortunate. I knew I was in trouble.
But, fuck it!
I chose to ride this into the ground. And should I crash and burn, then let me burst into an explosion that is brighter and more devastating than Hiroshima.
If I am to detonate, then let me detonate and explode like a mushroom cloud that exclaims the greatest rebellion that ever took place. And BOOM, so it was.

I remember the visuals and the hallucinations. I remember the lights and the spirals and the fireworks that took off in my brain. I remember thinking that I would have to pay for this. And I remember when I came home.
I was too high, and too banged-out to hide the symptoms of my previous hours.
I remember when the dance was over, so-to-speak, and it was time to pay the piper.
I had to face Mom and The Old Man.
This was rough.
I stood in front of them with my pupils the size of obsidian, huge as could be. My eyes were bloodshot. My ability to speak was limited to a bizarre gibberish and lo and behold, I remember hearing the words, “I hope it was worth it because you are never allowed out of the house again.”

Was it worth it?
I suppose I thought so at the time.
I thought my rebellion was a worthwhile fight.
But no.
In all fairness, my enemy was invisible.

My battles were more imaginary than true.
I had no clue what I wanted. To be clear, I never wanted to be the bad kid in the class. I never wanted trouble. However, in the cases of my life when something was amiss, or when my needs and wants were unmatchable and unmet, I revolted and reacted. Elsewise, I looked for something, or should I say anything to find that “sort of” feeling.
Do you understand what I am trying to say here?

Or how about this . . .
How about the days when we would gather with our families. How about the years of way back. This is when there were no empty spaces at the table, and everybody was still alive.

In fact, I remember one year in particular. I remember looking at my family and realizing that the sands of time were running out. I don’t know why this thought occurred.
I’m not sure if this thought was ominous, or anything other than the mind jumping out from the page of our unwritten journal.
I see it this way.
Life is like a book that’s being written. This is all streaming live and in the moment.

I saw this as the mind saying “pay attention.” Look a little longer or hug a little tighter because the spaces at the dinner table are going to change.
And sure enough, the rational part of the mind says, “enough already!”
“That’s kiddie tale shit . . “
And next, the dinner finishes and the laughter stops. The hugs goodbye go as they usually do. And sure enough, a day comes when you look at the empty chairs at the dinner table during your next family function. Of course you think to yourself, “I wish I would have told you how much I love you”

I no longer find myself cutting class or getting notes home from school. Even still, if there was a so-called “write-up” which goes on my so-called permanent record, the letter would be addressed to me.

Yet. . .
Still. . .

I know there are times when I chose to cheat or cut corners. There are also times when I chose a more selfish regard. I can see when, where, and how I chose to cut off my nose to spite my face.
I was unhappy and somewhat unruly and rebelling against what was happening.
I was mad with “what was,” and trying to meet with what I wish “could be.”

I know about the things I did or how being bad felt pretty good.
I know that I wished that I was happy, but I wasn’t at the time.
Sometimes, being wild or crazy felt so good that my old instincts came to the surface.
I knew the complaint was in the mail and sooner or later, I would have to pay for this.
But that was my past.
Not my future.

Like my time in Greenwich, or when my desires to be wild overtook my better rationality.
I knew that I needed to make changes.
I knew that happiness takes work and that as hard as this may be, you can’t save your face and your ass at the same time.

So, I ran and I ran until the ends were not justified by the means,

My days of way back when are in the past; however, I am looking to change my association with the ideas of being bad and how this feels good.
But to be fair, I have to say that it does feel good to go crazy.

It feels good to shut the world off, or to hide away with someone, play hooky from work, go crazy, go somewhere, go to the moon and back.
I don’t care so much about the consequences anymore.
I’ve already paid for them in full, plus interest.

I remember my last fishing trip and thinking how it might be illegal for anything to feel this good.

I remember laying poolside and feeling the warmth of the sun on my body, lazy enough to discard my thoughts and worries. I remember thinking, maybe this is too good to be true.
Or, maybe I thought too much about this afterwards and in expectation, I assumed that something drastic was about to take place. And it did. . .

“It’s all done, son,” says the adult in me.
We have to rewire our assumptions that every smile will cost us, and every penny we have to pay back will be painful.

Life in the rewinding mind is nothing more than a repetitive loop.
This always leads us back to an old assumption, to which we coerce ourselves into a self-inflicted outcome.
You got to stop that, kid.
Like, as in right now.

Do you want to have fun?
Do you want to enjoy the rest of your life?

Then listen to the good and the loving instincts which plead with you to hold and hug a little longer. Do it this way so that before the chair at the dinner table becomes empty, you will have no regrets.
You’ll have hugged or kissed or said what your heart wanted to say.
The only consequence is time.
But hey, what if we lived, loved, laughed and learned?
Even better, what if we realized our trained assumptions are untrue?
These are nothing but old biases that stem like a map from old pains that are no longer applicable.
What if we removed our fears that are brought on by our youthful traumas and memories of shame-based assumptions?

Yesterday is gone . . .
. . .and me and you?
We don’t need to lie there anymore.

I don’t think I will ever have fun the same again.
But this does not mean that I won’t ever have fun at all.
I will.
I just have to hug and kiss longer and live every moment and squeeze all the juice that I can.

I’ll just realize that to go forward, I have to live, love, laugh, and learn, and oh, — whenever possible or if ever given the chance, I’m going to be sure to dance as if there is no tomorrow.

Onward to the sunset, I say.
But, if given the chance, I would love to see the sunset with you.
Know why?
Because life is just better that way.