The oddest sensation is upon me now. I feel somewhat comparable to the dirt when the wind blows, or leaves across a river's current. However, I do not move. Without even trying to stay, the wind blows past me and everything else moves on. I've caught myself in my own troubles.
I got home and looked around. Who was I twenty-four hours ago? Exactly the same. Or, really, was I? This question aggravates me because you always learn the overwhelming consequences instead of the normal response. Why does society train us for disaster instead of preparing us for the probable? This only leaves us in the constant mindset to panic, which can't be healthy at all.
So, really, what changed? Nothing. But the problem is that I expected something to change. Something major. The way that it plays out in the movies, in the books, in my fantasies. But really, those dreams were lost to a fourteen-year-old; there should be no trace. Yet, how lost were they?
I feel it coming. The emptiness of the wind leaving me behind. The feeling of almost-change, but it won't come. I understand that I'm only feeling this way because I had previously placed myself in the mindset to be prepared. What happens now is my slow acceptance that there is no change at all, only rumored fiction.
I really need to stop gossiping, because rumors will only make everything a lie and everything the truth.
'Timeless waiting
for only the most infinite joy.
A small child cowers behind her inner self
and the adult stands to protect her.
Love, conquers all.
But protection is really what saves us from pain.
Thus, the days of September
pass me like breaths.
Slow water rains to my ears,
and the chills keep me warm.'
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