A friend [hi Lauren, nice seeing you here, hope all is well, we don't get so many visitors here] posted videos on her private Instagram story of her family videos, the kind taped on a camcorder where you can hear the autofocus better than the dialogue. It got me feeling nostalgic, and I remembered that I have a hard drive that my father sent me a few years ago. I figured it was time to really sort through it.
There were so many memories and pictures on that HDD that I had totally forgotten about. The funny thing about really forgetting is that you don't know how much you have forgotten unless you come back to it. —That's where I am right now.
The pictures are a mess, many unlabeled, with many duplicates, but mostly organized by date.
Organizing these pictures that my father has given me is a metaphor for how I feel about him: thanks, it's meaningful, but it's a mess; it's a pain in the ass, but I'm sure I can make something of this if I put effort into it.
...
It's Imbolc, or it was until the sun set. I'm not sure what that means other than the fact that it's a synchronicity.
...
There is so, so much to unpack. I'll leave pictures and sort through the ideas later.
This... this isn't how I was remembering the past. I have a lot of anger and resentment towards my past, much more than I deserve, especially my teenage years.
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