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Hindsight is always 20/20

Today marked the end of another chapter for me. It was my last day in my current store in my current role. Onward and upwards from here, I keep muttering to myself. As that’s all I can do as I continue this limp through adulthood and up the career ladder; just keep going.

I got a lovely send off from some of the girls and guys I’ve had the pleasure of working with over two and a bit years. 1 giant size cookie, I face mask from Lush and a brand new snapback – which was perfect because my skin is currently so oily that America is threatening to invade it and I couldn’t possibly justify buying another hat, so the fact it was bought for me made it alright. One of the most touching gifts I received though was a small good luck card from this wee cleaner at work, complete with two scratch cards which I haven’t yet played; I can’t stand to shatter the possibility that I might be a millionaire right now, so I’m holding onto this for as long as possible. It dawned on me today as she was giving me my card that as you’re stumbling through life you’re oblivious to those who are actually intertwined into your daily existence. Majestically spun into your routine without you even noticing it happening.  I’ve literally spoken to this woman every day for nearly three years. We never exchange massive conversations, just little catch ups and rants to each other, but it was always a comfort knowing she was there.

This got me thinking about the people that are now merely fragments of my past. People that once sailed in and out of my life on a near daily basis; people that if I didn’t hear from would make my day feel different, incomplete, wrong. Now they are but a distant memory, only to be resurrected when an event occurs that triggers this thought pattern. It’s so bizarre how someone can, at the time, mean so much, but in the future be remembered so little.

I only have one memory that I carry around with me every day. I don’t stop and look at it every day, I keep hidden, but sometimes when I do glance at it I’m infused with this melancholy and sadness, but also shots of glee and thoughts of ‘what if.’ It’s a mixed bag of emotions to be honest, and chances are if I’m thinking about it I’ll want to talk about it and if that happens then I strongly suggest you bolt; this is one can of worms that should be welded shut, tied to a brick and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. But carry this memory I do, daily. Obviously it involves a guy, but it was so much more than simply a guy. It was the guy, the one. The first.  As I said the memory is a little bittersweet because it ended so sourly (my fault mostly, I own that) but there’s so much happiness woven into the memory it’s hard to frown when I think of it. Sometimes I wish I could go back as I am now, as who I am now. I’d throw my hands up and confess my mistakes – because sometimes the most adult thing you can do is say ‘hey, I fucked up, I’m human, I’m sorry’ and then let it be buried. Obviously my younger self didn’t possess such wisdom, just an arrogance and a self on entitlement that stopped him from ever being wrong. Hindsight is always 20/20.

So another entry scribbled into the history book of my mediocre life. As much as I try to add decorations and excitement, it’s still fairly bland. On to the next adventure though.

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