Time Travel…

There are moments when time and space don’t matter, when despite wherever your body may be, you are, for all intents and purposes, somewhere else, fully experiencing something that happened long ago, maybe in a place far away, that you can’t technically be experiencing because you’re not there, but you can’t not be experiencing, because you’re not where you are right now.

These moments — when you’re at a high school football game and all of a sudden it’s you back in high school, giggling and walking with your friends, no idea of what lies ahead for you in the coming weeks, months and years. No idea that you’ll vomit away a good chunk of your future on a carpet at an Ivy League college. No idea of the pain you’ll cause your first real boyfriend, or yourself. No idea that in 14 years your mother will drop suddenly off the face of the earth, and you’ll be stuck with a “thinking of you” card you never sent and a phone call you never made.

And you want to go back and talk to that person, because she is real: You can see her, you can smell her, you can feel her, you can become her, again. And you want to go back and tell that person everything you know now so that she doesn’t have to experience everything that the person she’s about to become most certainly will. But you can’t.

You will never be able to touch her or even tell her to stay away from that guy she’ll meet online who’s named after a brand of sneakers. She’s so real that it makes you want to cry, but she is gone, a fragment of you that you unearth at high school football games. These are the moments when you write poetry. These are the moments when you transcend the universe. These are the moments when you transcend.

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