I used to think that people do not change. Maybe it was because I thought I never would. Maybe it was because of the typical phrase others tend to say: "people never change", and I believed it. But over the years, when I take the time to look back, I realize I have new illusions, new dreams, new objectives, new pursuits, new thoughts. A part of me is still there, but it keeps adapting to the circumstances, to my age, to the life I'm living.
Sometimes I don’t know what I want, even though I just had it in my mind moments earlier.
Sometimes I forget what home really means, doubting the role of blood, questioning my sufficiency, wondering what others truly mean to me.
Sometimes I find myself in lost songs, yet I can’t see myself in the mirror.
Sometimes I enjoy their company, but I don’t feel accompanied at all.
Sometimes I think I’m living, but the emptiness doesn’t go away.
Sometimes I dream big, but I stay in the same place anyway.
Sometimes I feel like a constant misunderstood contradiction, but also like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Sometimes I think I understand life, but then I don’t know where it goes, where to start.
And yet, here I am. Scars remain, so do band-aids. I still don’t know what to do, but I’m walking forward. Trying to feel, not just think. Trying to live, not just survive. Trying to be myself in a world which kinda erase me.
But I know I’ll get there, that's why I'm here.
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