would have beens ★ a collection

uncomfortable

friday evening i sat down on a bench, an old stranger beside me. winter was due in a week and the weather had turned rainy, crystal clear droplets that blurred the vision of the drivers, speeding home to be reunited with their loved ones.

a sigh found its way out my mouth and into the air, its presence still dancing around before my downcast eyes before fading away. it felt a little stupid for me to sit in the rain with a mere umbrella over my head but it was better than the desolate, lifeless walls of my apartment. large as it was, my laughs echoed unaccompanied through the halls and my tears flowed with no one to dry them and i didn't like that. today was a crying kind of day.

the stranger beside me peered over. "what's wrong, young one?" he asked, his tone gentle and soft, such that i could barely hear him over the rain. "i don't like change," i replied, gaze wandering elsewhere, unable to let a stranger look at my vulnerability in the face.

with a chuckle, a reply came back. "dear, change is growth. for good or bad, change helps us grow. so why do you hate it so much?"

"it's uncomfortable. i hate that there's nothing i can do about it. i hate not knowing the answers to the problems. i hate not knowing the exact path and way. i hate not knowing." with my reply, it rained a little harder, as if nature was attempting to set the atmosphere for my talk.

"it's uncomfortable because it's new. but without choosing to change, you'll always face the exact same challenges and the exact same struggles. so you won't hate change. as long as you change with the world around you."

with that last sentence, the old man got up and walked away. turning around, i saw his back, drenched in the rain and showered in the fluorescent lights of street lamps, taking one step at a time, away from the bench.

i thought about his words, then paused. he used to say that too.