You open your eyes to a new day and realize it’s probably another version of your day yesterday. You have the same job, you have to do what you have to do, and you just go through it the best way you should.
Sometimes the world just feels like it’s turning so fast; like time just slips right through your fingers without you being able to do anything about it. Days just seem to fly by, with you floating right along them. And you can’t help but wonder if you’re doing everything you could with your time.
Nothing seems to be sacred anymore, you think. These days, lives are judged based on what you share in those ‘grams; in those tweets. Gone were the days when you wrote in your journals; gone were the days when you had the patience to write down all of your feelings inside, until you feel your heart breaking, shattering, getting tired. You have replaced all that with control. You have replaced all your noise with silence—because talk is cheap, and you just have no idea how to share what you feel inside.
These days, lettering is an art, and painting could make money. Reading books is a challenge, not just a hobby. Gone were the days when bookworms were really just in their own world. Gone were the days when reviews and critiques were just in your head. Gone were the days when you wrote on notebooks, on scraps of paper, without having to photograph them; without the need for likes and admiration from people you don’t even know.
Nothing is sacred anymore.
Change is good, you think. Change is inevitable.
But sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if you have allowed yourself to change a whole lot.
If you have allowed yourself to change so much—and now you don’t know yourself at all.