Hidden Thoughts

Do you ever feel like you're missing what's right in front of you? Like if you were to just stop for a second and view your life from the outside in, you would realize there are huge things that you fail to notice everyday. Before I left for school I found something I had been looking for for a while. At first, I was so happy that I found it. Right after I realized it was right where I left it. I could remember the moment I had put it there perfectly. Somewhere in my brain I had known where it was the whole time. It wasn't a matter of finding the object, but finding the thought in my mind that led to the object. I would just love to unravel all those thoughts. Rediscover all those lost objects my mind has purposely for one reason or another concealed. I have to stop and wonder sometimes what I'm missing. Maybe there's a reason he's always been there, that he's the one I turn to when I'm happy or sad. Why for whatever reason it's never worked with anyone else. Don't get me wrong here, there are very few times I find myself thinking I wish I had a boyfriend. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm perfectly content with my life right now. But I also can't lie to you and say it hasn't crossed my mind. What if someday I finally unravel that tiny bit of information hiding in the far depths of my brain, and everything just falls into place? What if that tiny bit of information isn't so distant after all, just waiting on the tip of my tongue where it has been for a while? What if someday it just gets so impatient and jumps out on me and all of a sudden I just realize that hidden object has been here all along, I just had to remember where I left it. But that in turn leads to the question, why was it hiding in the first place?

Places

Have you ever gotten that really great feeling when you just fit somewhere? When things just start to make perfect sense, and for just that short amount of time you feel like you're in a whole new world, one built just for you. Don't get me wrong, my place here at school is awesome, I wouldn't trade it for the world. But I just know when this whole school thing is over, I want to go right back to the place I spend my Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. I want to go to the place where my mind dwells when I'm suppose to be studying for a Spanish exam. That special place that's all me. I think there's a couple things that make a certain place special. One is the physical setting, the area, the people, the time. The other is the person you are in that place. When I'm there it's hard for me to think of returning back to textbook pages and track practices. People say that you can't be a social worker if you're in it for the money, you got to really love it. I'm finally starting to get that. It takes a special kind of person. I never really believed I had in me the 'special' people talk about, but I'm beginning to learn it's always been there. I just had to find it. And now that I have, all that I can think about are those special places, here and in the future. I know I haven't written in quite a long time. It's not that I haven't been thinking about it. I've actually started two or three, I've just been very confused on my thoughts lately. Hopefully this will get me back in the grove.

We have big memories with people- 5th birthday parties, first days of school, first fall off a two wheeled bike. And then there's the little things. Like the way they said your name. When it's all said and done, sometimes it's the seemingly little things that we wish we could get back the most. She used to say my name a certain way, sometimes sing it, sometimes yell it, but it always sounded the same. In my eyes, she's never changed, I've just grown. But as this has happened, she gradually stopped saying my name, stopped remembering who I was. And now, when I look back it's not the times she used to kiss my skinned knees or help me solve problems that I miss so much as that certain way she said my name. Maybe because in some unseen way she still does help me fix things and heal when I'm in her silent presence. Maybe because even being a perfect stranger to her, I still know somewhere she still loves me. So I don't miss those things as much as the her voice, her soft sound, her perfect pitch, the one word that meant she knew me.