Who I was, is no longer who I am.
Some of it is welcome; as I grow up, there's less things to make me cringe in retrospect.
But then there is also the enhanced awareness of consequences and consequently, fear. Oh, so much fear! Scared of germs, scared of small spaces, scared of my car breaking down in the middle of winter, scared of the economy.
Am I the same person that stomped a cockroach with my bare foot? No! (ew)
Am I the same person that biked up to Sydney Point every evening? Can I ever walk into a streetside cafe and enjoy a scoop of fresh strawberry icecream by myself again? I don't think so...
..but I miss parts of it that I struggle to retain. I miss being known for not saying sorry. I even miss my peeves, the naive worries of past. I miss enjoying the ferris wheel sans the sound of my heart beating in my ears.
The inevitable change, the obvious resistance to change, combined with the constant strive for deference, leads to disaster and progress.
What happened to you? You used to be so bindaas!
What happened to you? You were always the class clown!
What happened to you?
All grown up.
One day you will tire of it and decide you need some space. Either you will pack a bag and fly off to Europe to walk the streets of Portofino. Or you might take up a meditation class. You may stop answering your needy (ex-)girlfriend's emails. How about adopting a puppy?
Because you can't tell the difference between filling a void or finding your self.
What was life like? What was I like? I breathe slow and deep and riddle myself with the meaning of life and of the Universe. The phone rings but I request the caller to leave me alone for a few days: Stop distracting me, I am trying to get in touch with my soul.
The hours pass to a climax. And, finally, now, I realize the beautiful but harsh truth: it's too late.
I am trying to get in touch with myself, but it's too late: that self no longer exists.
Who I was, is no longer who I am.
