So long, Hartwick.

With my first and only school year at Hartwick college coming to an end, I find it relatively easy to reflect on what a great time I have had here; despite its difficulties. First, I have met some amazing friends and people, in general. My roommate is one of the most inspirational, fun and beautiful human beings I have had the pleasure to meet. Abbie, despite our few falling outs, is also one of the few people that made Hartwick a great experience. My work study boss, Gary, along with a few friends from work, made my first college year incredible and I'm so happy that I got to meet such happy and positive people. It will be sad leaving Hartwick, but it is certainly my place back home. Memories will never fade and I can honestly say that(even though I have said multiple times that I hated it here) these memories; the nights out, exploring a new town, an amazing road trip and spring break; will always make me smile. With that, I suppose it is so long to Hartwick on Wednesday and a happy goodbye to Oneonta.

"I know how you feel."

No, actually, I have no clue at all how you feel.

I have no idea what it is like to be you or to understand precisely how you feel.

I have never experienced anything quite the same as you have.

Telling you that "I know how you feel" is similar to say that I know how a bird feels when it is flying in the air (that is, after I've flown in a plane.)

But do I really know how a bird experiences flying?  Not at all.  I can imagine what it might be like and how it must feel, but I can never truly understand what it is like to be a bird.

Why?  Well, because of something called a "consciousness."  Surprisingly, even with advanced modern science, humans have no way to measure a conscious state of mind.  Sure, I can understand how someone else's body works in a physical manner.  I can even understand what part of the mind experiences pain.  But I cannot experience that persons pain and react the exact same way, in regards to consciousness, as they do.  

Revloution-Revalation

I think that your first love is especially hard to get over in a lot of ways.  In my case, those ways are like a lot of other people's first loves. You loved them, or you think you loved them.  In some cases, you gave way too much for way too little.  In my case, you love a person that isn't who you thought they were.  In any case, moving on from a first love, especially one where you are not in any type of control of your own self, is a difficult task.

I try to think how long it's been since things went bad way back when, but I always have to tell myself it isn't worth it.  But there are always little reminders. A necklace that you can't throw away because it signifys a little more that a relationship. A ring that you hold on to, even though it is broken.  Memories that don't fade with time.

Is it worth holding onto those things?  No, probably not.  

After a lot of time and a lot of thinking, you think I would have put the past behind me.  It's hard to do.  Someday, it will happen.  There will be a day where I don't look back and cringe with disgust; at myself and the other person.  Today is not that day.  Tomorrow doesn't look so good either.  But someday.

Luckily, I have someone in my life that helps me get through the bad memories.  Someone who helps me understand that my past certainly does not define me in any manner; that someone else's opinon of me does not affect me as a person.  He helps me move past the anger, the sadness, the insecurity that I have because of the past.

Am I over my first love?  You bet.  
Am I over the emotional damage that happened?  Not quite yet.

I'm empty like the beer my mother drank before she really thought it through.
Empty like my brother's heart, who seems sad beyond control.
Empty like the house my father will sleep in, because he can't seem to keep a relationship.
Empty like my emotions because I can't hold everyone together.

Your memory haunts me
like a ghost of winter
in the beginning of spring.
there is still a bit of cold
grasping at your throat.

The words you use
to speak to me
echo in my mind
and I have to remind
 myself that it is
over now.

That you are something
of my past
something I did not
want to remember
but every year,
like spring,
I do remember.

I remember that
you were not the person
I thought you were.
That I have to constantly
remind myself that
I am good.

That I am good enough
for someone
not just a piece
of dirt on the ground.
Not your punching bag.
but sometimes,
I can't forget.

I can't forget that
helpless feeling of
not good enough
and I can't forget
your smirk when you
thought you won.
like spring.

But summer will come.