It's Not The Same Anymore
They say people change, but they never tell you how violent it feels when it’s not your choice. I didn’t grow into this — I shattered into it. And God, I hate it. I wish people could just look at me — one quick glance — and know. Know what I’ve lost to become this quiet. I’m not asking for pity. I just want someone to ask, “What’s wrong?” and mean it. But I also want to lie and say, “Nothing at all.” The part that hurts the most is how normal it’s become. These days, I don’t even flinch. Someone says something cruel or kind, and both feel the same. Like I’ve always known how to live like this — with emptiness. Like it’s been rehearsed. I try to laugh about it. You ever get that? Like an old joke you don’t find funny anymore, but your body still flinches at the punchline. That’s what memory feels like now — familiar, tired, too sharp. I used to run barefoot, careless. I thought I was free. Turns out, I was just naive. I believed hope arrived with every new day. And maybe it did, for a w...