A few months ago, I posted a dancing TikTok with my friends, and since I was feeling nosy, I impulsively turned on my profile views. Scary, I know.
I anxiously clicked the little footsteps and scrolled through a flurry of bots and ex-classmates when my eyes landed on an all-too-familiar picture: my ex had viewed my profile.
For context, this is the ex that made me relate to “All Too Well (10 Minute Version),” yet I still live off the fantasy of running into him in a grocery store with a giant rock on my hand.
Within seconds, my jaw picked itself up and turned into a smirk as a jolt of electricity ran through my body. I immediately cringed, confused and slightly embarrassed by my instinctive reaction.
I know what it didn’t mean. I hadn’t missed this man in two years, and considering all the jokes made at his expense, he’s become more of an urban legend than someone I legitimately dated.
But it had to mean something if my body reacted faster than my mind, right?
Missing the feeling, not the person
It unsettled me more than I liked to admit, as I triple-checked my profile views before bed to make sure I hadn’t seen a ghost. And there it still was, that stupid Buzz Lightyear meme I never found funny, mocking me in his purple suit.
After some worrying trains of thought, I realized the feeling wasn’t singular to my ex-boyfriend.
In fact, I noticed the same rush when a friend would bring up a night out in college, and I had the chance to retell the story about that risky 2 a.m. call.
Or when I was scrolling on Instagram and noticed that two girls who used to be inseparable no longer followed each other.
Even when a coworker asked me about Greek life, and I could lovingly mock my freshman year self for enjoying jungle juice and taking the dress-up themes way too seriously.
My reactions had nothing to do with missing my ex or yearning to be in a basement with people jumping up and down to “Mr. Brightside,” but rather with who I was when those things happened. When I wasn’t just reminiscing in the middle of the night or feverishly racking my brain to answer a question, but when I was doing things for the plot, and it actually backfired.
Existing in the liminal space
I always thought it was depressing when people referred to college as the best time of their lives. They’re essentially telling you that everything goes downhill and there’s nothing you can do about it. Thankfully, I don’t subscribe to this belief because you couldn’t pay me to turn back the clock. Not because it was bad, but because I’ve simply moved on.
However, is it possible to move on but still harp on things you never said or longingly scroll through pictures with girls you no longer talk to?
I’d argue that it is possible. And not because I’m trying to prove a point, but because I don’t think something has to be zapped from your memory for it to belong in the past.
If I zoom out of my life right now, it consists of retail shifts, calls with my long-distance friends, and the rare night out that almost always ends with me shouting, “Why haven’t we done this sooner?!”
In the spaces between, I try to meet my reading goal, prepare grad school applications, and take my hot girl walks, but unlike college, there’s too much free time. And when I’ve exhausted all my distractions, there’s nothing left to sit with but my thoughts. These currently include stressing about the future and overanalyzing the past. Pick your poison, I guess.
Right now, my life feels like a prolonged filler episode. If you skip ahead, you won’t miss any major plot points, but you risk stunting the character development.
Romanticizing the building phase
It would be easy to coast through this chapter, knowing that my life will be completely different in a year, but I don’t think that’s healthy. If I just go through the motions, droning through the weekly shifts, and only looking forward to Love Island at the end of the day, I’m conditioning myself to neglect my life unless it’s exactly where I want it to be.
I don’t want to rely on moving to a new city, getting into my dream program, or constructing the perfect friend group to be happy. I’d actually like to be happy while I’m on my way.
And if I’m really lingering in the past, those flings and petty drama did make me feel wanted and excited, but they also left me crying on the bathroom floor and making appointments to see the on-call therapist.
While that makes for good TV, I also like seeing my characters relax and breathe between storylines, even if it gets a little boring. So if I sometimes replay memories like they’re episodes in a drama-packed season, I’m just rewatching.