I’m not sure about whatever feeling is swirling around between my ribcage.
When I can find the words to describe it, it slips past my fingers, a ghost of a whisper carried away before I can fully understand it.
As things change, my heart races. Change can be good.
And change can flip a world so upside down, nothing is ever the same again. I find no comfort in change. I find only fear and doubt in myself and whatever future is out there while I stand blind to who I will be and what life will be like once everything stops spinning.
It’s foolish to not accept what is so fundamental. I cannot stop what comes next. I can barely control it.
People say accept what you cannot change. What if I can’t? What if it is physically painful, the pain in my head and heart so strong I’d rather everything just stop.
Stop moving. Stop changing. Stop.
And childhood seems so far away, this version of me occasionally unfamiliar. Like I’ve morphed into a person my younger self wouldn’t recognize.
Would she think I was better? Would she understand the choices I’ve made since I was her, little and naïve?
Or we should shrink back? Cry and wish for the time before.
Before she grew and learned things.
