Most of the conversation had begun its march after I talked about my dad and his absence in my little life – I told you it was deep – and then he kept saying I liked the subject of Psychology. This, I do not know where he got, but his assumptions were because I “analyze”, which, to some extent, is true. I do know that I did leave the appointment with that feeling of Information Overload and decided to file it in my “That was strange…” file. But as I am drawing it back out, I have been analyzing why I am the way I am. I’d like to label this file “I yam.”
All of these little memories that my mind so vaguely stored has made me nostalgic. Not in a “wish I could do it all over again” way, but more in a sit-down-take-out-the-photo-album-and-spread-every-picture-on-the-floor type of way. It almost seems surreal to think about how I so vaguely remember my first day of Kindergarten or how I remember reading Anne Frank in 5th grade because her story inspired me… plus someone said I looked like her, so I had to find out who this girl was. It’s these little moment of innocence that seem so precious to hold onto, because as we get older their distance becomes greater between each memory.
These memories, that were once reality but now enigmatic, have become my chemical makeup. I have taken something from each happening and my memories serve a purpose as to who I have become… or who I yam. It isn’t an indepth analyzation of who I “yam” or who I am becoming, it is more of a skim of my little life and all the innocence that had surrounded it. My memories attest to just that.
I did leave with one comment that lightened the mood. Doused in a heavy accent, my dentist said: “You may look 15, but you act and talk like a 25 year old.”