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What would my conversation with my younger self be like? - The tissue of the Tears of Zorro [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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What would my conversation with my younger self be like? [Oct. 24th, 2007|12:10 am]
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If I had a conversation with myself, but at late 16 or 17, what would I think?

Seriously. If I were to tell stories, what on earth would she say to me? With her world being more polarised than mine, would she understand the choices made? Could I properly explain the shifts of priority in my life? Would I be able to consciously explain the reasons without discouraging, or outright scaring, her? Would I be the embodiment of all that frightened her, and sometimes still scares me now? Would she understand the quirks in my behaviour that definitely had a root, that may or may not be valid now? Would the conversation be anything other than explaining the intermediate me?

If, at that age, I had a conversation with my current self, would I decide to try to change anything? Probably. Would the changes have any effect? I don't know. Would I assume my typical teenage know-it-all prescriptive tone and tell the current me the simple, in that mind, steps needed to reach what I regarded as a state of Happy. You know... the one with a capital H, the one that seems so crystal clear, so perfect, so binary, in the time when I indulged in dabbling in existing in shades of grey.

Would her critical eyes, ears and thoughts pick at every little detail, finding all my words frail under such impeccable angst-ridden scrutiny? Would she wrinkle her nose at the places that I like to hang out, the vocabulary I keep active, and the company I keep? Would she see my choice of career as a lapse, the easy way, when her world had nothing of worth that wasn't difficult?

I wonder if our vocabularies would even taste the same meanings of words, the same associations, the same weights? I used to be a lot more careful with my language - no synonym was left unclaimed by a subtle difference from the common tongue. It would be all too easy for us to be using the same words, but speaking two completely different languages. Would the language gap be too great, despite having lived her life?

More to the point, how would I feel after talking to her? Well, when I have these conversations in my head, I feel like a let-down. The winding, circuitous routes I've taken weren't worth the shoe-leather. The tendency to play it safe never really worked to my advantage.

I do sometimes wonder what my life would be like as an estranged, under-qualified Liverpuddlian. Chances are, that would have sucked more.