Late nights with just enough restlessness can be one thing, for sure. Add to that the technological capability of this modern era and the chronicling of mind and life my younger self had habituated (and continue in the present and ever onward)- I am only a few clicks away from a wealth of nostalgia.

     Historically, a treacherous area to ever dwell. But I suppose my discipline has been better regarding such matters in these, my older than young adult years.

     Threw that right out the window last night.

     And I confess, it was not the nightmare it had been in ages past. Perhaps enough numbness has accumulated at present to prevent any much of such feeling at all. Which is certainly a crime I have been correctly accused of, inside and without. Yet it was not quite void of any emotion.

     Context, maybe, might be the skill I better apply these days. For sure, it is. But there is also something else afoot in all that recent looking back. And though the substance and perspective on a lot of it would be called corny, if I were inclined enough to be kind to my former self- there is something else. The words flow, however fickle they might be. And that alone makes such a look back at least capable of positive result.

     At least a hint of proof, that on occasion, I have had a way with words. Which was enough to pull myself here before the keyboard again, though out of shape I still be.

     That, and a few folks to whom I hold opinion in good regard informing me that these are being consumed. So, at least a few scraps being fed to the ol’ ego, beast though it may be.

     There was another metric, though. And one that held an impact of a more ascertainable substance. For paired along with all with the words of that ghost, held the images associated with the day. And if you think my vanity bad now, you should have seen me when I had a jawline. A far cry from the general outward perspective pictures aligned with all these writing now. Or most, at least.

     But within this ancient blog of yesteryear (which I will not be sharing here or with anyone under any circumstance), the pixelated protrusion through time that struck me the most, was one of the oldest.

     And not because some wealth of memory came flooding back, overwhelming the very idea of my own sentience within time. Quite the opposite. Its stance above the rest had much more to do with the difficulty of connection. I could tell you who took the picture. And I have an idea who else was about. But when I try to jump back into the mind of the former me in the image, I find it hard to arrive upon so much of that character.

     A petrifying thought, if extrapolated in the right direction. Such a feeling of disconnect with a former state of the very flesh and blood I still occupy. Seemingly unaware of any direct motivations, beyond the vague sense of joy and glory. Things that have certainly been shaved down by pragmatism and responsibility. And the hope is that the reduction has not been made in a way to shape dullness, but the paranoia never really lets you get too far from such a thought. And the same sort of suspicious self-thinking is less than a step way from fearing that all that is held dear regarding ambition is only set to fade away, all the same.

     And yet, within all those spiraling thinkings, I know there is a truth I aim to deny.

     I still know plenty about that kid.

He has the same smile. Somehow, that grin still occurs. Sure, there is less of a chin. And the circles under the eyes are darker. But its still the same guy. The hopeful hopeless. Or hopeless hopeful. It’s more of varying spectrum of the two, than either one a permanent way. But both apply, depending on the day and circumstantial sway.

     It’s a relief, to see. That despite what has been at least a decade and a half, I can still summon up the facial response to happiness. And what a fifteen fucking years, huh? That dummy in the picture would be baffled if we told him all that was in store. Though, he might be impressed, here and there. He was kinder in a lot of ways, as younger people so often are. But I’ll take the advice that I don’t have to go too far to imagine that he would give me.

     And advice that I regularly take.

I can still crack that smile. And boy, can I conjure laugh.