That was my nickname for a time.
Not sure it would apply quite the same anymore, but what does, really? There is still truth in it, so it sticks like syrup to my persona and its perception.
Some people, I look forward to seeing. I get excited every time and imagine how it will be. It is never how I imagine it, of course, and there is a certain distancing in the resulting disappointment as my mind attempts to realign imagination with reality.
I forget the distance, however, and build them back up in my mind prior to our next encounter, ignoring the sensemble that it will all feel wrong again. That I will feel wrong again.
Big head tag-along.
Other people, I forget – in the time apart – how they make me feel when we see one another, and am swept up in giddy surprise each time. My mind struggles to hold onto those feeling during the in between times, but it ultimately fails, and the sensations of emotions I felt in those moments fade away into the moments passing by us afterward.
Most people I just don’t think much about until I’m given cause to remember; to recollect and forget again soon after.
Memory is a funny thing. It can be so strong as to keep the past alive in us, yet often in flimsy incomplete fragments, as those life has been lived as glimpsed through a veil by someone else; there and not there. Ours and not ours.
My connection to the present world and its inhabitants is as vague and fragile as the memories between the moments. It’s easy to sometimes wonder if they ever really there at all, the connections, or if I am just glimpsing yours, and tagging along for a spell.
Only to forget again in the moments in between.