does an agonizing ache consume you wholly when you reminisce about walking through the corridors of your childhood home? do the remnants of that long-ago incinerated interval still echo around you? I still remember it afresh ─ as if it was just yesterday that I was walking through the wheatish-hued hallways. we moved away from there quite a while ago but the memory paints itself in my mind to perfection even to this day. as a youngster I always had this urge to make our home as lively as it could be ─ the perfect paintings, flower pots, family photos (the only one we had) and all those things that made our house, my home.
I haven't felt that way ever since we moved on to our new place. the flower pots sit there dry as dust today and I know this because I haven't been there to water them. it's a somber feeling having to tend to the craters of your heart over wounds you know, will never heal. it's like having to discard your favorite sweater that fits you like none other but you can't keep it anymore because you've outgrown it. my mom tells me that the things we outgrow serve as an indication that makes us realize that a phase of our life is over and now we move on to different ─ new things, new beginnings.
it's a poignant awareness that plays with my heartstrings in an unsettling way. I've always been afraid of change. they tell you that time and again you're moving toward better things, but it isn't always better, is it? change stirs on the string where black and white coalesce into one ─ weaving your life into an unfamiliar gray. it isn't always welcoming. it isn't the fairytale that you imagined when you were 10 ─ it doesn't leaves room for you to sit and reminisce your long gone days, and it isn't a book that comes with the ending already written. each moment passing by, you exist on the last viable letter, not knowing what comes next. when you outgrow things that you've grown up with, it isn't always your favorite sweater or your worn-out toys, or the places that feel like home. sometimes (most of the time) it's the love, dreams, hopes, familiarity, and comfort that you outgrow. the early morning chaos while you and your sibling are annoying your mom before going to school, playing board games with your dad, the drawings you doodled on the corner of the wall where the paint is wearing out ─ you outgrow it all. they all become a faded memory.
─ I'm constantly living in the days I'll outgrow
