smoke in my eye

This song ("Young Love" by Cleo Sol) came on and initially I skipped it, then my 11 year old self said “listen to it”; so I did. Next thing I know my eyes are wet. I don’t know if it was the song or I got smoke in my eye.

I especially liked the part that says: "

Little young, girl, don't you cry, I know you're wise, but you've been fooled a few times". 

After a bit of research, I recall I was in the sixth grade doing what sixth graders do, watching popular television shows, like "The Cosby Show" and "Beverly Hills, 90210". I also went to see "Boyz 'n the Hood" with my Dad. I am unsure, but I believe at the time I wanted to be a doctor, then an attorney, later I wanted to be a psychologist. That one stuck for a long time, that is until I entered college as a psychology major and found myself facing various circumstances causing me to drop out.  

Cleo Sol sings:

I know you wanna be someone, you need something more

I am reminded of the young girl who wanted to help others with their troubles and figure out solutions to assist them in "living their best life". I thought it were all possible yet with no guidance I had no idea how it would manifest. I was raised to an extent, the rest of the time I just grew up, finding my way from one situation to another; doing my best not to end up a statistic or stereotype. I had a few "role models" however, they were not "mentors" I simply observed the goings on of their lives and fashioned mine in the ways that resinated and discarded that which I found no connection.

Growing up in South Central, Los Angeles [California] wasn't as bad as the media and some movies depict it as, well as least for a girl. I didn't have to fight or avoid "gangs" as I was not their demographic; so to speak. I was introverted, a bit of a loner, although I had a hand full of friends and somewhat of a nerd. Not much has changed I will admit. However, considering my environment I had "big dreams". I had not yet discovered my passion for writing, but I enjoyed studying and learning new things. At some point I even learned to play tennis and eventually tried gymnastics for a short while. 

So, back to my wet and/or smoke filled eyes. I will not say I was crying, as that involved the water (tears) leaving your eyes and possibly rolling down your face; that did not happen. As some of you know, I don't cry, often. Yet there I was with what seemed to be tears with no place for them to fall. I don't exactly know why I was emotional, because other than what I've shared I don't remember my childhood, another fact that some of you may already know. I believe it was my 11 year old self expressing joy at my attempt to connect with her after so many years. 

I am unsure why that particular age stands out, especially since I don't remember any details of it. Nonetheless, here I am; attempting to learn myself in a new way. A way in which I've never considered until this past week. Of all the ages I've been, something about those pre-teen years make me wish I could go back and redo some things. The hormones of a teenager are something that should be better forewarned, I now see how ill prepared I was for the happenings within my self. 

And here we are, approaching a new age and finally hearing the voice of a younger version of myself that I am unfamiliar with. I decided not to force any memories or thoughts; I figure it's better to allow them to flow naturally, therefore I am in alignment with my self (mind, body, soul and spirit). The ending of the song is what made me replay it several times and Cleo Sol says:

'cause you've got to believe, life's what you want it to be

I imagine myself in my bedroom, writing in my journal about the life I'd like to live and as I sit here now, typing these words I realize how far off the path I am as far as my younger self is concerned. I do not feel sadness or defeat, I instead feel a sense of something unfamiliar. I am not sure of the emotion or feeling I have right now, but I am allowing it to flow through me to teach me whatever it is supposed to teach me. 

A different song plays and I am taken to my 17 year old self, reminded of a boyfriend; interestingly enough, a family member constantly mentions his name, confusing him with my current lover. Their names are similar, but not enough for the confusion. Thoughts of him pass and I am back to my current self, wondering when I intend to smoke my last joint or if I feel like rolling a blunt, which I never feel like rolling blunts. This evening however, is a bit different. particularly because the Moon is no where in sight. I saw her earlier in the day, but now that night has fallen, she's no where to be found; at least from my vantage point. 

I miss the Moon and my lover...