Bouncing from nowhere

You know how when you here echoes they don’t sound anything like what you originally said, a mutated mumbling of a word. Sometimes memories can be the same.

I have these jumbled memories of playing around the school as a young boy, exploring empty rooms. I’d be walking through classrooms empty of the children they were built for. Blackboards dusty from all the writing-erasing-rewriting that goes on. I remember not finding anybody else: no teachers, no students. And I’d be happy about being there.

I do remember one time I did that and was scared out of my skin by the moving shadows of plants outside the windows and the odd sound a strong gust of wind made through the hallway. Suddenly shutting doors and odd whispers are what made me intereste in basketball in the first place. Those empty rooms with their ghosts are the reason I took up basketball and broke my arm. That’s still better than walking through there alone.

Sometimes memories are actually clearer than the actual event.

Ever had that feeling when you just realized the next day what a stupid thing it was to say what you did the day before? I feel like hiding in a hole and never coming up for air.