Dec 2014
I've always been one to talk about change as if I was immune to it and it would never happen to me, but looking back on it I realized that not only has it happened, but I feel so alienated from what I used to be that old pictures seem to be a stranger staring from the frame into my own eyes from a fog of the past that I can't seem to recollect
I have to learn to make it on my own out there in a world full of people that can tear me down more than pick me up and it's going to be a process not easily overcome and impossible to avoid but for some reason the fear inside me is starting to melt away at the thought that these worn out eyes can finally breath in the sunshine, or lack thereof, of another country
There was a question that asked how I feel I've changed since my Freshman year and all I could say was that my eyes have become ones that back then were not capable of seeing the reality I was living in everyday, but now they can see, and they take note, and they see those looks that you give them and they write down in their memory carved with the scraps of past ones that I should be invisible
I realized in two weeks that I mourn by not mourning, because I avoid crying now that it's all drained out of me, and with the death of a best friend, I haven't shed a true tear that was not under the influence of the fluids they were pumping in me through an IV system, and I don't know what's the matter with me, but I just focus on the happy happy happy because if I don't the world knows that will be the end of me
I'm sitting in the room I've been sitting in for over seven years writing about change. I never thought the day would come when it would be about myself, but it is, and here I am, and I have changed. I over think things, I question, I observe, I'm careless and careful and confused and lost and searching somewhere inside of me for where I'm going and who I'm going to be but the answers haven't come yet so I'm forced to be patient and wait for them as long as I need to because without a sense of self, I am no one.
I have to learn to make it on my own out there in a world full of people that can tear me down more than pick me up and it's going to be a process not easily overcome and impossible to avoid but for some reason the fear inside me is starting to melt away at the thought that these worn out eyes can finally breath in the sunshine, or lack thereof, of another country
There was a question that asked how I feel I've changed since my Freshman year and all I could say was that my eyes have become ones that back then were not capable of seeing the reality I was living in everyday, but now they can see, and they take note, and they see those looks that you give them and they write down in their memory carved with the scraps of past ones that I should be invisible
I realized in two weeks that I mourn by not mourning, because I avoid crying now that it's all drained out of me, and with the death of a best friend, I haven't shed a true tear that was not under the influence of the fluids they were pumping in me through an IV system, and I don't know what's the matter with me, but I just focus on the happy happy happy because if I don't the world knows that will be the end of me
I'm sitting in the room I've been sitting in for over seven years writing about change. I never thought the day would come when it would be about myself, but it is, and here I am, and I have changed. I over think things, I question, I observe, I'm careless and careful and confused and lost and searching somewhere inside of me for where I'm going and who I'm going to be but the answers haven't come yet so I'm forced to be patient and wait for them as long as I need to because without a sense of self, I am no one.
