If you’ve ever read Harry Potter (which honestly you should have by now), there is a conversation that takes place between Harry and Ginny where Harry says the following line: “It’s been like… like something out of someone else’s life, these last few weeks with you.” This line has stuck with me over the years, not only because of the iconic scene it’s a part of, but because it resonates with what it is to be human. At one point or another, everyone feels that there’s a period (or periods) in their lives that seems as if it belongs to a parallel universe. And though they’ve had the the experience, it’s sort of unbelievable that it’s theirs to keep.

I’ve felt this way on many occasions. Most of the time it’s during relationships, in those moments where despite the madness of life, bliss is found. When I look back on periods of time like that, I really do feel as if the memories aren’t mine. That the life that played out there must of belonged to somebody else. I usually don’t realize these things until the moment has passed and is tucked away in the cracks of my memories, slowly collecting dust. However, these past five days have been different.

I traveled up to Davis (aka cow country) to spend some quality time with some people that I deem my best friends, and ones that over the past year have graciously extended their companionship to me. I ate with them, I biked with them (and failed tremendously, somehow hurting my lady parts in the process), I partied with them, I lived with them. And for five days, I felt as if I was living someone else’s life. I couldn’t help but think that if I had gotten into Davis and chosen to go there, then this is what it would be like.

This idea brought me as much joy as it did confusion. I was overjoyed to be somewhere that welcomed me so easily and effortlessly. On the other hand being at Davis was like seeing a snippet of a life that I could of led but I didn’t. I can best compare it to seeing a trailer of a movie but never being able to watch the whole movie. In no way am I saying that Boston was the wrong choice. In all honesty what bothers me the most is that I don’t know if I want more of what I have or more of what I can’t have. I’m constantly torn between missing the life that I lead (and could lead) so comfortably at home and the one that I sometimes struggle so hard to lead in Boston. It is difficult to submerge yourself into two drastically different lives without feeling a bit lost.

So, once again I’m feeling bit lost. This isn’t the panicky-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-my-life lost. Oddly, it’s more of a calm lost. I know it’s there. I know I don’t know the answers yet. I know I don’t need to anytime soon. These periods of our lives that don’t seem as if they belong to us feel that way because we haven’t figured out where they go in the grand scheme of things yet. They haven’t had the chance to be woven into our story, and some may just be lost in the cracks of our brains forever. I have yet to bridge the gap between my two lives but I’m in no hurry. For now, I’ll continue to watch the trailers until I can piece it all into a movie.

Bloody hell and best wishes,


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