Springtime rain. It’s been raining on and off for 2 weeks now. It’s been cold. There’s nothing more miserable than the combination of being wet and cold. Every time it rains, I tell myself, “Get a bloody umbrella already”. And when the rain stops and the skies clear, I think to myself, “What do I need an umbrella for?” Then of course, it rains again, and I start the cycle all over again. I just don’t plan ahead very well.
I’m adjusting, I think. Still, sometimes it feels as though I have shed an old skin and am trying hard to fit into a new one. I don’t believe it gets any more comfortable until I am ready to shed this new one too.
I hear the echoes of the old me at night, tossing and turning… I just can’t seem to sleep anymore. And I wonder if I will ever go back there and reach back for that old self. Or has it served it purpose, and would it be better to move ahead and stop being sentimental and all nostalgic? See, things are never perfect until they are over, until they are a part of your past – the irretrievable past. It’s just the curse of human nature. And some people are more cursed than others.
New chapters are hard because the pages are blank. I seem to have run out of ideas. Where once, in my passion and youthful energy, I would splash the pages with vivid color and images and words. Now, the blank pages taunt me, reminding me of how it used to be, and how it is now. Maybe it’s neither good nor bad. Maybe it’s just different.