Recognition in Journal

Jumps out at me from a page, a word or phrase mentioned in passing, the sight of a new face that is somehow familiar.

I feel a remembering. Not that I actually recall anything in my mind, concretely. But I experience the same quality of feeling as I do when I remember something.

Sometime I have a sense of place that is far away and very different. So foreign that I might never find out if it is a real location or not.
I am reminded of my dreams in my younger years. Wherein, I dreamed other people’s dreams, it seemed. Or perhaps I dreamed their waking?

Life is so strange.

I enjoy it. But it is. It’s just so strange.

I like that I am feeling so well. I like that I have found a way to make good on my feelings. I like that there seems to be genuine shifts within myself.
It has slowed… Almost to a halt. If I wasn’t slipping backward, I’d think I was dead still. I am slipping back. I feel a reluctance… To let go of my bitterness. My well earned pain. I don’t want to let go of it. What shall it be to me, if I just let it go? It cost me so much. What could possibly repay me for that? And yet… I wonder.