Masks

The problem with moving is that I haven't spent more than four years in any one place. Unless, you count from birth to the age of six, but all my memories from that time seem to be traumatic experiences. Not to say that I had unhappy childhood, it just seems the stronger more vivid memories are of getting lost at a circus, getting electrocuted by a lamp, being pushing down the stairs. But these memories aren't what I want to talk about. Around this age my parents had traveling jobs and I was sent to live with my grandparents. They were loving and caring but still no substitute for the company of my parents.
At six years old I was packed up and sent to lie in America this time with my mom and uncle who were in college in New Orleans. Both of them had busy schedules and I was for the most part left on my own to get into my own little brand of trouble. I had friends and I was good at making them. Out of necessity I think I learned to adapt to my enviornment. I spent 3 years in public school before my parents decided to send me to a private french school again uprooting me from my hard won friends. Half way through that year we moved all the way north to CT.
At this point I was around the age of 11. I had no friends, at least none with whom I could hope to keep in touch and I was living with parents I barely knew from cultures I could barely recognize as familiar. I remember feeling like I was outside looking through a dirty window at a family I wish I could be apart of, while knowing I couldn't ever really hope to fit in. I think the difference was I was still hoping and trying to conform to that family I saw. Trying too hard to be someone I wasn't. Trying to adapt.

A Single Moment in Time

It's hard to remember how to breathe sometimes. I find myself in a room that's slowly burning down around me and I can't even think of escape because the only thing I want is to get in that desperate breath. I'm not sitting here trying to describe what a panic attack feels like. What I'm trying to explain is what it feels like to be trapped. Trapped in expectations that other people have for you, but maybe even worse trapped in expectations you have for yourself.
I can't remember a time when I wasn't weighed down. But I know I've glimpsed what it feels like to break the chains. There's tiny moments that seem to transcend the mundane but the situations themselves could be just that. In fact, they often are the most boring experiences when viewed from outside. A cigarette and silence between two friends. No expectations, no needs, nothing that needs to be expressed. Or maybe when you hear a song but the lyrics fade away and all you hear is the beat of your heart sync with the beat of the song.
It's not a feeling, it's a moment. A single moment in time that you can never remember and you can't describe; not really. But each moment leaves a scar and a memory that changes you forever.