A low stirring deep within me

I like change. I realized this fully and completely days ago, but only yesterday did it strike me as a terrible thing--I like change at all costs. Seeing others grow, life shift into the shadows, brews in me a rather intoxicated mood, I can not stop but smile at the life brushing goosebumps along my shivering arms. Side by side with this intoxication, however, is an edging of nausea--what has happened? An actual, complete, footprint-creating step in any direction is thrilling, but now life has moved on; others have accepted the here and now, and we are left with our past footprints as mere memories. Life is, excluding all our fantasies, exactly where we have stepped. I hate change.

But I don’t want to be the one to dwell in my memories--I frequently refer back to both tear- and sun-soaked memories in my writing, but in reality what I dream the most for is the future. That is why, perhaps, I love change--look ! I have created something of a fantasy ! I am living in a fantasy ! But we can not say, as we did when we were six years old, “Pretend I am eighteen and you are eighteen too, and look what just happened ! You have to be excited for me--we are getting ready for a party and we are both excited right now !” And, most likely, your friend would agree, but add something more thrilling to the picture to make your life even more exciting.

But we are eighteen (well, some, and some are 11 or 14 or 16 or 47), and our friends sometimes add thrilling pieces to our lives, but more often than not they are not going to the same parties, or don’t want to, or have looked at you differently the past couple of weeks and now say, rather simply, “We’ve changed.”