"Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it." --George Duhamel

I've lost a lot through the holes in those nets. I'm having trouble remembering myself, much less you. And I'm sorry. I knew you once, I knew you really well. I'm sure I still do. But I've got to figure myself out for now. Dredge up the good and the bad because this is just mundane and sad. I feel just plain pittiful. I mean so little to myself anymore, so how could I mean anything to you? And its clear that its the case. How did I loose so much? The shreds and tatters of my old life/dreams/happiness is what means anything anymore.
I appreciate how pointless and irritating it is to wish for 'things the way they were'. I hate changing my comforts probably more than the average person, but I try not to dwell, because its sounds like nails on a chalkboard to complain about something that simply cannot be changed. There is no time machine. But I do miss my old self. I'll never get her back, and its probably a good thing, but how I miss just seeing glimpses of her in present me. In my evolution as a person I've always been able to use the weaker versions of myself and develop into the next phase of me. Only now I feel abandoned. My old selves have foresaken me for the playland where schizophrenics drop off their voices when they start taking medication. She pops in for a visit now and then, and it helps when people who knew me back then remind me with stories or observations of how I used to be. Then I can catch a glimer, in that "oh yeah! I remember now" nostalgic kind of way. I know shes not gone, just so far away. Maybe shes waiting for me to change, to get a grip on life. Thats when she was at her best, when I had a great grip on life. I bet thats what she's waiting on. Only my hands are so slippery from the slope where I've taken up residence. For now I'm just a shell.