Positively Scarred

I have flashbacks. Often.

Not the, “Oh I just remembered something funny/embarrassing/etc I did yesterday.” But I’m talking flashbacks that put me back into teenager mode and all of a sudden I am 16 again. I used to walk these city streets, my best [guy] friends at my side, skateboards in tow. I used to run rampant through parks and down neighborhood streets.

At 18 and 19, I’d be out til all hours. Doing whatever. Smoking pot. Hanging with whoever happened to be available. I remember spending time at the park at night. I remember long drives. I remember drunk evenings. I was wild and carefree.

Sunday night I had a flashback. I drank too much and got shitty drunk. I lost my phone, or it was stolen, I’m not sure which. Both could be plausible. I’m not sure the chronological order of things, or how I managed to survive, but I was blackout drunk. I remember a harmonica, a guy I’d just met that night, and his cousin. I remember walking the streets by the Amtrak station. I remember a house and a couch. I woke up startled and needed to GET THE FUCK OUT because WHOA, who am I? How old am I again? This is not me. I do not just wander off, especially with dudes who I just met.

I lectured myself in my head. How could I let this happen? How could I have been that drunk? Why didn’t I catch what I was doing and leave with my friend as I planned? What the fuck, Kitty? (Yes, I refer to myself as “Kitty” when I have conversations with myself.) It took me 3 hours to get home. A friend of the boy I was with got me a ride via one of his friends.

He’s my age. We graduated the same year, from the same high school. He reminds me of being a teenager. Numbers were exchanged, and I added him on Facebook. Nothing will come of it, I’m sure, because he straight up told me, “I’m not looking for a girlfriend.” To which I replied, a bit more snarky than necessary, “Well, good, because I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

He put his arms around me and he held my hand. I paused and waited for myself to swoon but I didn’t. Because I’m really done with trying. So I didn’t try. I was, perhaps, more bitchy than I should have been. But I was tired, restless, pissed that my phone was gone, pissed I left my purse at the house from the night before, mad because I let this happen…

I survived though. And through it all I proved I could still be a down-ass chick and run rampantly all over town, on foot, like I did when I was a teenager. But I’m not that girl anymore. I need stability. I need quiet nights and coffee and cuddles. I need to be sipping on wine and not chugging down beers like a frat boy. I’m in my mid-20s.

And maybe this was all just a fluke. Maybe it was my quarter life crisis taking form again. Maybe this was why the short-lived relationship couldn’t work.

Sometimes, I just need to remember that I’m 23 and not 16…