Life is one big thief, always scheming about how to steal my identity. I turn around for a minute, and, when I look back, Can’t find the person I was yesterday. I breathe a deep breath. When the carbon dioxide explodes out of me, Who I Am goes along with it. 3 words in as many seconds change me irrevocably. Today everything I touch falls apart beneath my fingers; yesterday I felt like a master at fixing what other people broke. The Past stole my ability to comfort. Now is making me the one who needs comfort. Thinking I’m happy and secure and have a lot of faith leaves me susceptible to the hailstorm of paranoia that appears out of nowhere.
I don’t like not knowing who I am. I don’t like being unable to predict how the things that happen to me will change me. My Identity needs to remain molten, fluid becoz, When I let it solidify, like lava turning to rock when the volcano finally stops erupting, it’s hard to let go of or hold on to anything. I’m just me. And I’m not in any position to change and grow. I don’t like accepting things, especially things like change, like growing, like needing to be an extension cord. A malleable, moveable, user friendly extension cord.
Maybe this is all a tug of war between me and reality. Life happens. And it’s meant to change me. I might have to give in and let it.
At least the sunset is the same every day, even if I’m not.
