Holy Myspace!

So this afternoon I was trying to track down some stuff I had worked on with a band I used to travel with. I put my name and the bands name into my search bar and the first thing that popped up was my MYSPACE PROFILE.

After 6 failed attempts at signing on, I finally made it through to find that I hadn’t been on the website in over 4 years.

Anyways, I was cruising around, laughing at all the things I deemed “important” as a young, drunk 22 year old, and I found some old blog entries that were interesting. Some of it is way too ridiculous and not worth a second read AT ALL, but this one was a tug at my heart strings because I remember so vividly writing this after my first boyfriend and I broke up. At that time, I thought I had lost a part of myself. I remember being so depressed. Oh, how I wish I could just hug young Katie and tell her some of her great loves were in the horizon, some of which I haven’t even met yet, and there is nothing to worry about.

Anyways, this is dated 10/15/2004, when I was 19:

Every couple of weeks, I come across a night where the entire world seems completely at peace. Kids are tucked safely in their beds with their night lights to protect them, the days traffic is nothing more that memories on a beaten path, and the ocean seems to sway as if it were dancing to a song that only it can understand.
The cold is here, we zip up our hoodies, abandoned for so many swealtering months, and find each other stuffed in the pockets like forgotten dollar bills.
On cold nights like these, the only safety we ever truly have is in the comfort of our blankets which, to me, feels like a warm hug that a mother leaves behind. When the monsters peak their heads out from under our bed or the boogie man comes out of the closet, we wrap the blankets around us even tighter and hope to see the sun smile down on us one last time.
On such a still night like this, I can’t help but think of my “him”. The one boy that “him” will always me. He’s nothing more than a box in the corner of my mind with his name on it, something to rest my head on when I’m tired, something to visit in the twilight. I’ve unpacked him a 1,000 times and tried him on, pranced around in front of the mirror with him draped around my shoulders. I buried my nose in him and memorized his scent. Then I folded him up carefully and packed him back up again, waiting for just the right season when I could take him out again. On a good night, I can sweep him away and collect him in corners. He’s nothing more than a forgotten tickle in my gentle nose.
Why is it that the whole world can be hushed to sleep in a sweet lullaby and all I have to look forward to is an hour or so of a very depressing walk down memory lane? My biggest curse is that I’m damned to be a restless human in a serene world of my own making. Plagued with the past, I wish for time to grant me the sympathy to lie down and be still, but right now that’s like wishing for a kiss and getting a handshake.
I finally found my melody but sometimes I can’t even hum it correctly.
At least the rest of the world is sound asleep.