to doug (2017/11/26, 2018/01/17)
college is strange. it’s really now that I’m starting to reflect upon the past months that have been, and it’s only now that everything is slowly sinking in; or maybe washing over me. it’s kind of overwhelming. I’m not really sure how to feel.
it’s strange because I came here and adjusted so quickly and felt so at home that I never second-guessed my being here. when I Skype my mother she tells me: “You look so much happier now. You have no idea how happy your dad is that you’re finally smiling”. and it breaks my heart because I tell myself I am,
happier.
and now I tell myself that maybe I’m not. not sad but not happy. apathy, rather. ? maybe? i can’t tell. void…ness. like always. comfortable, familiar; like always. in english class the other day my professor joked and said “you know that void in your heart that you’re trying to fill? it might never fill. just… trust me on that one.” he laughed so I laughed too, but it stuck with me, something nudging my cold december heart, itching underneath. is this what life will always be like? why do I keep attributing apathy to happiness? because it’s better than sadness? but is it really? maybe once again I desire to feel everything all at once. I just want to feel something.
over the past months I’ve come to realize that my priorities have shifted a lot too. academically I’ve never performed worse than now; correlating of course to me caring less than ever before. and this is me. someone who used to be so disappointed when not receiving 7s, stressing out over every single paper and cramming so hard for exams. maybe it’s the shadow grading that first semester has to offer, or maybe I’ve just changed. I don’t know, but I can’t recognize myself anymore, and it's making me terribly confused. there are so many other things that I would rather focus on right now. so many other things I’d like to explore and pursue; like rock climbing, or creative writing, or creating art. things that I tell myself to make time for, over and over again, but that never seem just important enough. except for climbing. I’ve been climbing a lot. therapeutic, in its own sense.
[...]
hmm,
college.
:-S
–
I’ve also thought a lot about being 20, and about growing up — or maybe the lack of it. in the car to the climbing gym one day, I ask Michael about things that you can only really ask real adults. real adults that have their shit together: that have a job and a family and a dog and that worry about things that are realer than trying to figure out what major I want to do, or if I should go to class or not. or something like that. I want to be a real adult too. I ask Michael about growing older, and growing more mature, and what that really is. what is it to be more mature? what is it to grow up? because looking at myself it feels like little has changed over the past couple of years of my being alive. reading through old journals this summer made me realize that many of the thoughts and emotions I wrote about then, I still write about now. it feels like I’m stuck somehow. stagnated, maybe. is this who I am? is this who I will always be? I think a lot about what andrew used to tell me: “when you grow older you'll realize that you're the exact same person as you were ten years ago. you're the person you're always going to be, right now. down the road you'll just have a little more experience”, and the thought of that continues to shift from being the most scary to the most comforting thought ever. if I am who I will be right now that means I can also alter my future self, right? because if we only learn by repetition and I’m constantly perpetuating my being, a slight change in attitudes and repeating them means I can alter and have power over who I become in the future. right? Michael says: “when I think of myself I think of myself at the age of 16”. he’s 38. “I don’t know why, but somehow that’s just how I see myself. maybe it’s because even though I think about different things now, I still hold true to many of the values that I did then”. he laughs at the thought of feeling 16. I laugh too. but in reality, the thought of it stings (a little bit). taking control of myself seems harder than I want it to be.
(january 17)
a couple of days ago, I met up with aleksander; an old friend I hadn't seen for almost two years. seeing him again feels like two years ago could have been yesterday. everything comes back to me in an instant; things I haven't thought about since we last spoke, two years ago. things like his voice, or the way he walks, or the way he always ruffles his own hair, the patterns on his knitted sweaters, his crooked teeth... things like that. seeing him feels distant, yet so familiar. we talk over coffee at one of my favorite cafés in Lund. he asks: "do you think you've changed?" to which I reply: "haha, yes! I think I've changed a lot." and I tell him about things I thought a lot about this summer – about you, and Andrew, and UWC, and how my values and priorities have shifted. "don't you think I have?" I ask. he replies: "I don't know... now I can't remember exactly how you were two years ago, but this feels strangely familiar to me. like little has changed." maybe he's right. I don't know. I've always compared returning home to hitting the play button on a videotape. it feels as if everything is the exact same way as I left it. it's been like that ever since I moved out. it's so easy to fall back into old habits, and picking up friendships never feels like... picking them up. instead, it simply feels like I never really left, home, or wherever else I'm returning to. at the same time, the view I have of myself now is very different from how I imagine myself viewing... myself, a year ago. in other words: I feel very distant from who I used to be. or at least I think. I guess it's hard to tell. but seeing aleksander and being reminded of his crooked teeth and the way he ruffles his hair, made me feel like the relationships we have are always put on pause, no matter how much the people in them change themselves. much has happened over two years, but my relationship to him in many ways feels... the same. it's a weird thought that I can't really wrap my mind around and fully understand, but it's kind of comforting to know. that no matter how much I change, an older version of me can always emerge through my relationships with other people. like I can inhabit all of these different me's within the one person that is... me. that nothing is ever lost, kind of. only gained.
[...] i miss you a lot!
lots of love,
anneli
it’s strange because I came here and adjusted so quickly and felt so at home that I never second-guessed my being here. when I Skype my mother she tells me: “You look so much happier now. You have no idea how happy your dad is that you’re finally smiling”. and it breaks my heart because I tell myself I am,
happier.
and now I tell myself that maybe I’m not. not sad but not happy. apathy, rather. ? maybe? i can’t tell. void…ness. like always. comfortable, familiar; like always. in english class the other day my professor joked and said “you know that void in your heart that you’re trying to fill? it might never fill. just… trust me on that one.” he laughed so I laughed too, but it stuck with me, something nudging my cold december heart, itching underneath. is this what life will always be like? why do I keep attributing apathy to happiness? because it’s better than sadness? but is it really? maybe once again I desire to feel everything all at once. I just want to feel something.
over the past months I’ve come to realize that my priorities have shifted a lot too. academically I’ve never performed worse than now; correlating of course to me caring less than ever before. and this is me. someone who used to be so disappointed when not receiving 7s, stressing out over every single paper and cramming so hard for exams. maybe it’s the shadow grading that first semester has to offer, or maybe I’ve just changed. I don’t know, but I can’t recognize myself anymore, and it's making me terribly confused. there are so many other things that I would rather focus on right now. so many other things I’d like to explore and pursue; like rock climbing, or creative writing, or creating art. things that I tell myself to make time for, over and over again, but that never seem just important enough. except for climbing. I’ve been climbing a lot. therapeutic, in its own sense.
[...]
hmm,
college.
:-S
–
I’ve also thought a lot about being 20, and about growing up — or maybe the lack of it. in the car to the climbing gym one day, I ask Michael about things that you can only really ask real adults. real adults that have their shit together: that have a job and a family and a dog and that worry about things that are realer than trying to figure out what major I want to do, or if I should go to class or not. or something like that. I want to be a real adult too. I ask Michael about growing older, and growing more mature, and what that really is. what is it to be more mature? what is it to grow up? because looking at myself it feels like little has changed over the past couple of years of my being alive. reading through old journals this summer made me realize that many of the thoughts and emotions I wrote about then, I still write about now. it feels like I’m stuck somehow. stagnated, maybe. is this who I am? is this who I will always be? I think a lot about what andrew used to tell me: “when you grow older you'll realize that you're the exact same person as you were ten years ago. you're the person you're always going to be, right now. down the road you'll just have a little more experience”, and the thought of that continues to shift from being the most scary to the most comforting thought ever. if I am who I will be right now that means I can also alter my future self, right? because if we only learn by repetition and I’m constantly perpetuating my being, a slight change in attitudes and repeating them means I can alter and have power over who I become in the future. right? Michael says: “when I think of myself I think of myself at the age of 16”. he’s 38. “I don’t know why, but somehow that’s just how I see myself. maybe it’s because even though I think about different things now, I still hold true to many of the values that I did then”. he laughs at the thought of feeling 16. I laugh too. but in reality, the thought of it stings (a little bit). taking control of myself seems harder than I want it to be.
(january 17)
a couple of days ago, I met up with aleksander; an old friend I hadn't seen for almost two years. seeing him again feels like two years ago could have been yesterday. everything comes back to me in an instant; things I haven't thought about since we last spoke, two years ago. things like his voice, or the way he walks, or the way he always ruffles his own hair, the patterns on his knitted sweaters, his crooked teeth... things like that. seeing him feels distant, yet so familiar. we talk over coffee at one of my favorite cafés in Lund. he asks: "do you think you've changed?" to which I reply: "haha, yes! I think I've changed a lot." and I tell him about things I thought a lot about this summer – about you, and Andrew, and UWC, and how my values and priorities have shifted. "don't you think I have?" I ask. he replies: "I don't know... now I can't remember exactly how you were two years ago, but this feels strangely familiar to me. like little has changed." maybe he's right. I don't know. I've always compared returning home to hitting the play button on a videotape. it feels as if everything is the exact same way as I left it. it's been like that ever since I moved out. it's so easy to fall back into old habits, and picking up friendships never feels like... picking them up. instead, it simply feels like I never really left, home, or wherever else I'm returning to. at the same time, the view I have of myself now is very different from how I imagine myself viewing... myself, a year ago. in other words: I feel very distant from who I used to be. or at least I think. I guess it's hard to tell. but seeing aleksander and being reminded of his crooked teeth and the way he ruffles his hair, made me feel like the relationships we have are always put on pause, no matter how much the people in them change themselves. much has happened over two years, but my relationship to him in many ways feels... the same. it's a weird thought that I can't really wrap my mind around and fully understand, but it's kind of comforting to know. that no matter how much I change, an older version of me can always emerge through my relationships with other people. like I can inhabit all of these different me's within the one person that is... me. that nothing is ever lost, kind of. only gained.
[...] i miss you a lot!
lots of love,
anneli