TALENT FOR LIVING



Talent
noun
1. natural ability to do something well

-for-

Living
intransitive verb
1. to continue to be alive

one time a few years ago around christmas (i was probs like 13) there was a big power outage

so it was freezing

and i just remember sleeping next to the fire that night with my mom

i think my sister and dad just went back to their own beds but my mom and i stayed in the living room by a roaring fire with the wind howling outside and snow falling

and when you looked out the window it was pitch black

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a short story before i go to bed

I remember one time when I was little and was at my friend’s birthday party

everyone laughed at me

because i had wrapped her gift in christmas wrapping paper

we didn’t have birthday wrapping paper at my house ever

for some reason this memory has its place in my mind as being an early experience of feeling inadequate and sad

and then consequentially angry at everyone for laughing at me

i have so many of these types of brief memories/stories with the exact same feelings, especially from my childhood

just little silly, but significant, experiences like this

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one time

lol i was with www.mrl98.tumblr.com and www.alexandrainwonderland.tumblr.com

we were up at pawtuckaway lake in nh during the summer

and then alexandrainwonderland lost her clear jelly shoe

in the water

and it was kinda fucking hilarious (well now it is when i think about it)

cuz we searched for a clear shoe in water for like an hour

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it’s strange

how a smell or scent can trigger so many memories

like just now i used some tea tree oil

and the scent of it brought me back to so many things from this past summer

poison oak face, spanish project film, spanish class in general, missing 4 days of school right before the last day, that boy that gave up, fiesta, june, tumbling about all of the above, avoiding summer reading, text conversations, rainy nights in the first week of vacation, going to bed very late, i could go on forever

but right now smelling that sharp minty garden aroma is like looking through a scrapbook

it’s so strange to me how strong that sense is in relation to memory sometimes

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