Coming back to the motherland is strangely disconcerting. Mistakes I hoped were dead and buried in my younger - significantly more reckless past - surface with frustrating regularity. And while I'm not averse to more recent, err, adventures, I detest coming face-to-face with how stupid-I-once-was.It's almost as if I was a different person then. And I'm a different person now. (Or I'd like to be).
Except it's not easy is it? Becoming someone else, even if that someone else is just yourself.
Former-me disappoints me in her lack of foresight. I don't understand how she could throw caution to the winds and just do things because they 'felt' right. (I don't understand how so many wrongs managed to feel right in the first place). Former-me was reckless, and stupid, and in her reckless stupidity didn't understand that the world does not revolve around her, that everyone she meets is not going to love her, that she cannot get what she wants when she wants it, and that the world at large is not focused on worshiping the ground beneath her feet. Silly girl, former-me.
But even as I look down on former-me's naive self-confidence, I wonder if she came face-to-face with present-me, would she approve of what I have become? Or would she tell me that I'm an idiot. Would she remind me that I'm 27, not 200 and tell me to throw away the baggage of cynical distrust and just believe - with all the naive enthusiasm that former-me was capable of - that humanity is ultimately good, that there 'is' such a thing as love and I-will-find-it, that relationships are meant to last and that they're worth investing in, that commitment is something to cherish not run-away from. Wisdom, she might say, is not always found in those who live longest.
So there I am, caught between former-me and present-me and not sure who wins out into future me. All I know is that assuming a button makes itself to my universe, there is little doubt that I'd be tempted to reinvent myself.
The real question is, who the hell do I want to become?