I Can't See My House From Here

Oh the advice that my current self could give to my past self! How unfortunate it is to think that you're floating on cloud nine, only to find that you were lost in a fog, barely off the ground. The emotional roller coaster that doubled as my summer is over, but that sick feeling that lingers long after you've taken an ill-advised ride is still there. In amusement park imagery I am the green faced kid who was taken in by the allure of the adrenaline rush sitting blankly on a park bench waiting for the sick feeling to pass. I am not a fan of roller coasters in general but I have been coaxed into riding a few, and my reactions are always the same. I get to the top and in the moment when up is deciding to go down, there is a pause. In that pause, I never look around to enjoy how pretty the view it is from the top; I look down because after reaching the pinnacle there is no where to go but down.

  I had that moment this summer. It seemed too good to be true, and as with anyone taken in by that idea I thought that I had found the exception to that rule. To be honest even from the begining I had this thought that someone was gonna pop out from somewhere and say "Suprise! It's just a joke." I played it off as a misplaced pessamistic thought. Or at the very top of the best day thinking that this good feeling can't last just like the roller coaster at the pinnacle there is no where to go but down. And quickly the latter half of my summer went down.

 Basically I carbo-loaded day dreams on top of an already steady diet of blind hope and with a stomach sickly full I took the plunge. I had convinced myself that this was everything that I wanted to the point that I had blinded myself from all the warning signs and red flags that appeared from start to finish. And when the coaster tipped itself downward those beautiful dreams that were so sweet just moments before now become painful reminders of what I did wrong. So as I sit on the bench in the shadow of my summer ride; being somewhat grateful for the green hue to my face that hides the red glow of embarrassment, I recount the lessons learned and prepare myself for what comes next.