We’ve Got You Surrounded.

I’m a sucker for nostalgia and storytelling. People I grew up with slowly became just characters- their five or six times with me and how their nose was crooked or their hands shook or they never said “damn” becoming traits of this figment of my imagination + nostalgia. And then- I grew up too. And I met all these characters all over again- as young adults with new hairstyles, life goals, and chips on their shoulders. Sometimes that’s a dream, and others- it’s a reminder that life is one big mass adventure where bumping into each other again can feel more like hitting a car than making sugar stir into coffee. But as I meet old faces (and am dating one again)- here’s one thing that has always, always been true:

We all walk around with our present and past and future selves still with us.

I still carry myself as a kid, an awkward middle schooler, and every age I’ve ever been. And especially right now- past me’s and future me’s feel like their yelling, crying, whispering, leaning back, telling stories like old friends in my ears all. the. time. And I’m learning that I have to let them talk.

But, feeling surrounded by myself is oddly comforting. As me with short brown hair and overflowing hormones trods behind me- carrying heavy notebooks and orange BB cream. There’s me with even shorter hair with petaled jeans and somehow lighter footsteps- even as she grows into herself in more ways than one. The teal-haired me isn’t that far behind. She kinda saunters behind me, wanders from side-to-side, wondering how all the things she sat through and said yes to and kept her head down on are gonna show up in this new, breathable era. 

And me in a red gown isn’t far ahead either. She’s probably holding a lot more emotions than her pocketless tent of a gown can carry- and she’s listening to a few songs on repeat. They mean a lot to her. Maybe she laughs because the me behind her knew her so well, or maybe because she didn’t know what was coming at all. Either way, she’s there- telling me that it will all truly be okay, it’ll be worth it- this time is so incredibly short, my love. Drink it all in, even when it’s sour and bland. You only have so much- and then this chapter, this novel, this eon of your life- the series you’ve held for nearly your entire conscious life- will be over-and you’ll be free. In all the meanings and consequences of that word. 

Me in a white gown isn’t far after her. I don’t know when she’ll arrive, but she’s a few leagues ahead- and she’s always dancing. She’s cried and sweated away her blush and eyeshadow, but she’s there- and though far off, she knows how young and small she is, and how big and weighty the ring around her finger is too. But she smiles at me, everything will be okay, love. The metal music will rage on. You will always know what to do. You will always be more ready than you think you are. Listen, my love, and enjoy every moment up till this one and every moment after. We were meant to do hards things- and the curves of your heart are poetic prophets- they know. They know where the arrows point. They know where you should go. They know where you’ll need growth and change and fluctuation and evolution- and they will remain with you even to the end of your age. 

And all the me’s I still can’t picture are in front of me too- all of them. Just like I was in front of me before, even when me then couldn’t imagine me now with full clarity. 

We’re all surrounded by the us’s we’ve been and will be.