“I just want to go back to how things were.”
Have you ever uttered those words? Experienced that sentiment?
I know I have.
Had that desire for a time machine or, at the very least, a teflon skin that deflects any residue of experience.
A feeling that I’m somehow worse for wear, a sweater carelessly thrown into the dryer, its once-secure weave now shrunken and puckered and pilling.
I sometimes wish I had experienced an air-dry life, gentle and considerate, leaving me washed and yet untouched.
But then I think about having that kind of life. Living like you’re the prized possession too valuable to be removed from the box.
And what’s the point of a life that isn’t really lived?
I’d rather live to the fullest. Take risks. Feel the pain and wear the scars. Embrace the collisions with life as an opportunity to transform.
And to allow those things that hurt me, change me.