Probably the most basic axiom I use is that we all have different ways of experiencing, interpreting and processing information. See I could have said that ‘I think about things differently to other people’, but that’s a more ego-centric way of observing the same thing. I don’t see it that way, because I’m different from the people who do (he said ego-centrically).
I feel nostalgia because it’s a way of imparting meaning onto memories that I need to believe weren’t meaningless. The difficult times I soldiered through with colleagues need to not have been just suffering. They need to be romanticised sword fights, heroic stands atop weathered mountaintops by beleaguered protaganists. The alternative is that they were just arbitrary amputations by machinegun fire in some nameless trench of some 3am of some corporate deadline. They would just be places where we lost pieces of ourselves, whimpering in the middle of sleepless weeks, for the privilege of paying rent and four weeks paid vacation per year.
I loved those people, but I don’t miss them. They were meaningful to me, but likely because I need them to be. I don’t feel the urge to reconnect. But I do feel the urge to remember. Not just remember either, but reinvent what actually happened to fit the narrative I need to keep going. When you put your dreams on hold, you need to give your inner child a reason. When they ask you why you aren’t doing any of the things you told your teachers you would, you need to comfort them. Because they don’t understand delaying, or, worse, giving up on a dream in the way that adults do. They still have that infuriating optimism. They believe that adults know what they’re doing.
So some days I sonder and speculate around others’ sensitivities to similar sensations and experiences. How do other people see it? Do other people miss each other in more sincere and true-to-that-person’s-actuality ways? Do they do the same thing I do but either shrug matter-of-factly or in denial?
I don’t know, but something feels wrong.