The Ghost of Christmas Past

Remember the very beginning of this life journal of mine?

Not that anyone would give a damn. Heck, I don’t even know if anyone read this LJ anymore, but that suits me just fine; lately I’ve been using this thing to organize my own thoughts and at least for someplace free, it serves this purpose well.

But yeah, remember this entry? Something I wrote three years ago, about something that happened five years ago. There used to be a time when I was that person who did all those crazy things, trying desperately to search for myself and all the answers…

Not to say that memories are simply forgotten. Even with my famous memory lapse I tend to hold on to fragments of those memories that are symbolic or significant, but your perception of those time changes… I’m no longer enamored by a stranger half a world away (and never will, so help me), I am no longer Christian (oh yes, I’m being haunted by that too recently… although that’s easy to put off)

Eventually I did pick up some of these fragments and try to link them together. The friend’s list that I keep on my end is good evidence of this – there are people from all walks of my past that continue to spin their life tales, but we have all moved on, and these tales are about strange places I’ve never been too, people I’ve never seen, things that I’ve never done and probably will never do… in other words, they are now strangers to me, and should we ever meet on a busy street I will not greet, smile, or even look twice.

To bring you back to full circle… I’ve been haunted by a ghost of the past, who apparently, brought over a piece of the past… unadulterated, frozen in time, like the crystal clear memory of those things you see before you die. Enter my ex’s ex, mentioned without a name in the old, old entry I linked about. Guess how I greeted him? I slapped a non-anonymous warning, and by George I’ve never, ever used the warning button in AIM before in my life, EVER.

Of course, there’s always I can blame the incident on: I was playing around with the bot farmers in felwood and just found a way to kill them, and I jumped the gun when someone with a never before heard of username send me a message in those really small fonts that I can’t make out… ur… Canada… drive south… WHAT? He knows where I live?!! MEET MACE!!!111

Yeah, I put the pieces together, realized why the username sounded dreadfully familiar, wondered why who was in Canada and wanted to see me and said that we used to be good friends, so on and so forth… but really, that’s not the point. The thing is that for about 5 seconds after the realization, I was suddenly brought back 5 years in time, to a different me, to face the consequences of things that I no longer have any recollection of.

And it sends a chill down my spine in all the wrong ways.

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