i am an american-aquarium drinker..

it's hard to take a look at back at yourself and see the places that you have been. from a crab-apple tree whose petals would shower over the driveway when the wind gained enough speed, to the house with the blue door. we wore dinosaur finger puppets and light-up, high-top sneakers as we sat on the russet colored carpet of the toy room. waiting at a bus stop right in front of our house, and when two bells told us that it was time for our day to begin. these small things existed in each day, and can no longer be touched. it would be very possible to walk through the halls of my high school; it would be quite impossible to feel the excitement of the last home game. all we can do is miss the days that would drag in February- when the snow refused to melt, and we would stare at a blinding white through the cafeteria windows. though new people and places have replaced those that were there before, the reality of being unable to ever feel those days again is overwhelming. it has been so for some time, but growing up is a process in many parts, and the order is never consistent.
the one constant is the progression forward; it grants us the opportunity to see more, be more, build more, meet more. we use the time ahead of us as a blank tablet and dance across it with music notes on our heels. the melody we look back on is a result of how confidently and passionately we have put our feet down.