Change
“People change.”
It surprised me to realise how freely words flow between my teeth, like a overflowing dam facing a greater reservoir of ears.
Whether or not it’s a saddening truth has never really crossed my mind. Sometimes I feel something morphing into strange shapes as time passes, responding differently and caring less. It’s just funny how drastically different perspectives can become, and what just doesn’t matter anymore is what lets you grow stronger, masochistically (?) perhaps.
It has just been a matter of weeks before I realised a reformation of values and personality have taken place. Even my perception of single-word concepts have changed – death, love, sex, ambition, passion, or calamity. Could it be the people I see and talk to on a daily basis? Could it be because I’m not in the same social environment as I was before? Or perhaps I fell in love and didn’t even know it.
Wait a minute.
How exactly is this possible, you ask? I couldn’t tell you. In fact I don’t even know if what I said is true, or if it’s just a mind dump. What I know is that strange feeling of unusual morphology and incantation. At the same time, it comes pre-packaged with scars and lacerations to the soul. I’ve been too afraid to understand anything. I’ve been too afraid to pursue what could honestly be right in my face. I’m too afraid to push farther when I don’t know how much I’ve let go in the process.
I ask for no sympathy this time, because I know I can live without it. What I’m waiting for or what I’m doing, I haven’t the slightest clue. I’ve learned a lot from the simple choir of voices I hear every morning, and through it all grew a little less sensitive. I just couldn’t believe how evident it has all been and I hadn’t been able to see it for myself. It’s a slight deprivation in itself.
I don’t know where I am in this world right now. Whether I’m in a state of calamity, in a state of juxtaposition, or in a state of euphoria is beyond my vision of the world. The thoughts in my mind have grown more complex, and it’s becoming more complicated. All I feel are threads torn and spun together, stretched or compressed in a labyrinth of shadows and the ghosts of what was once called history.
Sleeping has gotten difficult, because all I can think about is…
Never mind, I need to rest.