Change in the Wind

you say that nothing has changed, then why do I feel as though everything has? you no longer laugh at the jokes that once made you laugh, you no longer answer questions that you would have once carefully contemplated, you no longer spend the time telling detailed recounts the way you once would have. it is like we are two pieces of driftwood moving towards different horizons, no matter how hard we try to hold onto the other. why does something once so infinite now feel like it has an end?

I like to read stories, and in stories, the ending always signals to a maturity in the characters, a change that stems from the lessons they have learnt throughout the novel. they have a new sense of determination, a new sense of purpose, a new sense of what it means to be themselves. yet I feel more lost than ever. I can’t seem to find my way back. I can’t seem to find my way home. when home didn’t feel like home, you were my home. I never thought the day would come when I wondered: if you didn’t feel like home, then who would?

I don’t have any answers, only questions. and I’m afraid to ask any of the questions because I’m afraid I already know the answers to them. but maybe it is good to be afraid, maybe fear means that I still have something to lose. the battle isn’t lost yet. maybe we are only at the climax of the plot, and maybe by the resolution I will finally be able to admit that winning is not returning to the beginning where everything was familiar, it is arriving at a new beginning where nothing is recognisable yet somehow you still find the courage to move on anyway.

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