Wait for Me, Day 7

This entry is part 7 of 23 in the series Playing "Wait for Me"

This is an entry in a journaling game I’m currently playing. An explanation, and my first entry, is here. Oh, and these posts are organized into a series now. You can see the post series page here. 

… and… I’m in the same room I was just in, but the walls are different. The Frazetta poster, the Tolkien calendar, a copy of Samurai Cat on my bed next to my journal. This place is a frigging shrine to the fantasy genre. How did I ever forget all this, and decide I didn’t like that stuff anymore? 

Looking at the journal, I see a page littered with bullet pointed questions. Huh, plus ça change, c’est plus la même chose, huh? But when I look closer, I realize they’re anxious questions. First day at yet another new school questions. It’s a year till I figure out… maybe I can cut that learning curve down a little?

Look, forget all that stuff.

I draw an arrow up toward the anxious questions and worries. 

These kids don’t know you, or who people decided you were before. You can be someone else now. I mean, to them. You’ll still be you. You should: you’re alright!

But the world? It’s theater. They’re all playing roles. Pick your role this time, a better one.

Oh, but: trash the unicorn T-shirt. (Trust me.)

As I lift the pen, memories ripple through me, a year rewritten, well, partly.

Iron Maiden? Seriously? And… a totally different bunch of kids in my D&D group? I made a Metallica banner in Home Ec? Panicked, I fumble through my memories, worried that… no, no. Mom still refused to let me learn guitar. I got the same alto sax, got the same lessons, lost my mind listening to a different Miles Davis/Coltrane album, but… yeah, not everything’s different. I thought I’d lost myself for a moment there, but it looks like some things are harder to change than others. Thank goodness. In real life, I…

Wait, this is real life. I’ve just changed my past. I can change things, overwrite them. I reach for the pen, fumbling mentally to figure what else I could write, when I’m ripped from this moment and tumble off through time again… 


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