Sentiment is a very strange concept for me to try and grasp. Rick Sanchez says love is the expression of familiarity over time, similarly, Mr Sherlock Holmes says that affection is a chemical defect found in the losing side.
In light of this, I am very guilty of being hopefully reminiscent when I am alone. My mind travels back to particular moments and clings to them, like some kind of whimsical lifeline to fill my heart to the very rafters. Similar to Dumbledore and his peculiar pensieve, I feel that I can pick out memories from the grey cloudy depths of my brain and revisit them to remind myself of particular things. Lessons? Blessings? Just because? Truthfully I am unsure.
However, I can, and do, look back on specific events in my life that make my heart swell to the size of a house – causing that deliciously warm fuzzy happiness to an intensity that I cannot contain. Particular collections of previous happenings that spring to mind include tiny young Lucy running to my parents after finally winning one of my many unsuccessful sports days, drunken giggly house parties with my closest friends during my college days and Christmas time surrounded by my favourite people drinking far too much homemade alcohol.
Sadly still, I am also guilty of revisiting some more deplorable events embedded in the depths of my complicated limbic system. The breakup. That break up again. And again. Seeing my twin have that break up. And again. Seeing my friends question their worth. Watching my parents experience some hardship of any kind, be it splinter or personal loss. Knowing I have let people down and knowing that I chose to not do as well as I knew I perhaps should have.
But, as I reminisce, I try to remind myself that if I had not stumbled, I would not have fallen – when I was very young I tripped over a pebble on our patio in the back garden. I was so traumatised by that stumble I, quite literally, had to carefully reverse my adolescent dungaree-d self over the mountainous precipice to the safety of the green lawn on the other side. Now, although this is a rather stretched metaphor, I try to think of every blunder I have ever made throughout my life as that little piece of paving slab that had become askew. Although it may seem impossible or distressing, perhaps life-changing or just rather shocking, the pending task may only take a change of perspective to be achieved.
I am trying to look at my current piece of patio slab differently. Recently I have struggled with looking back into times in my life that were not pleasant, meaning I wiggle myself into the Sadness Sand like a spider in the desert. I will no longer reprise the thoughts and feelings that dug me into that rut. I will no longer think of the people who have hurt myself, my family or my friends. Some people come into your life as blessings, who will fill your life with light so bright you will think they are the sun. However, others saunter into your life as lessons, educating you on the ways of the world and perhaps, even yourself.
“People come and people go. They’ll drift in and out of your life, almost like characters in a favourite book. When you finally close the cover, the characters have told their story and you start up again with another book.” Know when to put the metaphorical cigarette out and go back inside. This reprise is discontinued.