Sentimental Fool

Maybe its just me.

I lived in Riverside for 16 out of 18 years. I hated probably a good 40% of that. I didn’t like 35%, and there was a definite lack of joy in at least another 20%. I’d say out of the 16 years I lived in Riverside, I only enjoyed maybe 5%. Spending time with my high school girlfriend, making music with Sean and Michael, pizza and movies with Ryan, waking up next to Kellie. There were few things that brought me joy.

But now it seems that everything, every stick of furniture, every piece of bric-a-brac, hell, even the cups I packed, hold some strange memory. My clay fish reminded me of Ms. Danielson’s class in 7th grade. An old wooden toy reminds me of the house I grew up in.

A smell or a song will trigger emotion so strong that sometimes it’s hard to hold it back. I sit there, on my new living room floor, holding a cheap plastic light saber, regretting my choice to move so many miles from the things I love, yet, at the same time, the feeling reinforces the idea that the move will do me good, somehow.

I dunno. Maybe I’m just a sentimental fool.