Past, present, future...

As I lay in what used to be my bed in a room that used to be my sister's, it's hard to think of anything but the past.

I tiptoed into my old room tonight. I say tiptoe because it is a disaster zone in more ways than one. Apparently it is currently the storage room for all of my dad's referee gear. my old bed, covered in black and white stripes. stuff is everywhere, a mix of my old memories and my dad's new hobby. Such a strange contrast.

This place no longer feels like home. It hasn't in a very, very long time. It's strange - I feel as though I'm visiting a long lost friend, someone I used to know but I can't seem to remember very many details about anymore.

I can almost detach my self entirely from this place. That is, until I spot it.

The one reminder I have of him. The glaring reminder of the girl I once was - clingy, emotional, unstable. He gave me that as a spur of the moment gift, a simple surprise when he returned from a family vacation. So childlike, now all I see is how he saw me. I was just a warm body to him. I was someone to care for him while he longed for her. I was so naive, so childlike in my belief that he really did want me for me. That maybe this isn't some temporary high school thing. Maybe this time it would last.

He made a fool out of me. I will always wish I had listened to my sister, my friends, when they warned me. All they wanted to do was protect me, and I blew them off. Now, there is a two foot, fuzzy, bright yellow duck reminding me of my mistake.

It strikes me as funny now. I've lost the necklaces, the earrings, the little trinkets I had collected from him and the others. I'm sure they're here somewhere, and I have one I really, really wish I could find (the one before him was a kind boy, a good one, who I foolishly let go) but the valuable items have vanished, yet this ridiculous, $10 stuffed animal remains to haunt me. It has the cheesy exaggerated eyelashes, the comical big eyes, that remind me over and over of my childlike ideas. Somehow, though, I won't allow my parents to get rid of it. That damn duck reminds me of how far I've come, and just how much I could have lost.

I turned into the innocent blithering idiot again, five years later. Luckily the only remainder of that moment is the lingering scars on my pride. Maybe someday I can get rid of the duck, but for now, it has to keep me tethered to my past so that my present and future self won't repeat history.