Nostalgia teases and taunts

 The growing pain of nostalgia in a constantly modernising world. 

These were the only words written in my notes which I clearly meant to get back to but never did, so I shall return to them now. 

In a conversation today, I was thinking back and talking about how I was as a child.

I was a fairly loud child, always putting on performances, singing, dancing, taking on the stage of life (and my living room) as my own. I would sit with my parents and ask/ order "give me something to draw, tell me what to draw". I would watch art attack and immediately attempt to make my own craft, and I remember a lot of paper mache, but I don't remember anything actually made of paper mache. I made little fairy houses and wished upon a shooting star to see a fairy. I thought it was cool to like blue, but too basic to say just blue, so I would settle on 'midnight blue' and "no its like a really dark bright specific shade of blue actually". I was smart and I studied hard, the smartest in my class really (thanks to my mother that put me through awful extra lessons so I could get into a good school). I didn't like getting into trouble and I always followed the rules. At the same time, I was 'mature for my age' and would silently shake my head when people would talk down to me. I indulged in play of course, but would also think it was silly when others took it too seriously? And on top of that, I always had big big emotions, and would feel very angry and cry a lot. What a wonderful package!

I loved secret little spaces of my own. I actually wanted my own 'cupboard under the stairs', I wanted my own tiny little corner of the garden, or my own special spot in the park, or a secret little den out around the neighbourhood, or a tiny little treehouse decorated perfectly to my liking and that was all mine (I blame the american movies for that one). Curling up into a tiny, private corner of my own was my dream. Basically I realised that I've actually never really wanted to be seen, and I've always valued my peace and my privacy. I was loud, yes, but also internally I was very quiet. It was awkward for me to share things with people, my parents included, and especially those in positions of authority (fear of authority, always following the rules.. you get it). For a while, I thought that I had become a completely different person as I've grown up, but I think I've been this way all along. The classic nature vs nurture debate.

In a way I wonder, have I changed at all? 

I think I do well outwardly: I can be loud, talkative, bubbly, love a drink and a party, I socialise and make friends. And yet I still love my little tiny corner of privacy and peace. And, protection? Maybe years of tiny rejections and tiny belittlings has magnified what already lay there. As a child, it can be seen as endearing. As a teen, you're mean and quiet and never leave your room. And as an adult...? By the time you're an adult, you don't even need anyone to tell you. My own narration, built up of society, school, parents, friends and enemies, and my devil, labels me enough as it is. I don't like being asked personal questions by my parents, and it's hard for me to open up. Most of the time I am avoidant, and distant. I don't like being told what to do and I don't like feeling trapped, although I do that to myself a lot too. And though I hold these traits still (protective, quiet about my inner world, snappy), I like to think I hold the others still too (fun, creative, optimistic). It is hard when two such opposing sides are constantly at war with each other. But I like to think that the little girl that obsessed over fairies and crafts, and singing and dancing, smiles at me with proud and adoring eyes, and that I can do her justice even now, when I venture into that world within me. 

I realise this didn't have much to do with our constantly modernising world... but I will make a small relation now. 

Why oh why is it so difficult to have a real, genuine friendship nowadays? With our phones that are glued to our hands, embedded in our very bodies, why is it so difficult for so called friends to respond to a single message? People moan and whine they want connection, and then don't do anything about it. Nothing changes if nothing changes! All I want is to stay up all night with my girls, talking about feelings and dreams and past and future and love and hate, like when I was a teenager. I miss the sense of sisterhood and girlhood, which is sorely lacking in my life right now. But nowadays my standards have sunk so far I'm just asking for a simple message. It's funny that I just spent two paragraphs moaning about how much I love being quiet, and now I'm writing about how much I just crave connection. 

A lot of us bloggers love these blogs because it helps us keep touch to a world that no longer really exists, a world that some never even lived through, or did but could never truly experience. Although these 2000s romcoms and whatnot are of course romanticised, it is still true that people were grabbing a drink spontaneously with a friend on a thursday night with little to no planning, and strolling through the park in the morning before their day started. And I realise you can have this life now of course, but it is made much, much harder. 

My childhood wasn't necessarily easy, but I don't want to take off my rose coloured glasses. I love the soft yellow hum around those memories, even though they make my chest ache. Maybe childhood was so special because of this lack of technology I think; it was at the perfect brink. When there were the 'essentials', like a brick phone, an old blocky google, and a camera, but it hadn't advanced to a point of this constant, hammering, blue light and code zipping through our brains. Back when people still felt real, and seemed to care about the life in front of them. One day maybe I will look at this time fondly too. But nothing will beat the true, pure childhood memories, that become fuzzier ever year. Maybe when I am an old woman, they will merely be a feeling. But I know they will be there. Because she is still there, and she continues to live on in me forever. 

If you read this far, thank you
xo  ᥫ᭡.