untitled

I am a different person than I was a year ago. Might as well, change is the only constant they say. Change is all I am anymore. Change is all I'll ever be. The same art school I was frothing at the prospect of joining, has left me with a jaded view of the world. I don't recognise myself anymore. I have lost touch with who I am. As I sit here in this dark room with the window open, enveloped in the lingering stench of nicotine, the city lights sparkling like stars in front of me, the sky as starless as possible, the only sounds coming from the constant traffic and occasional plane that flies right over my head. I am lost. Yet I have never felt more like myself. There is nobody who knows me. This me. 

Lately I've been questioning who I really am, on more occasions than I'd like. Being surrounded by such different people, I find myself in every person I meet. I am the good and the bad. I am far far away from home. I have dreams and goals I want to accomplish, places I want to see, people I want to be. Yet, I know what not to be. 

Friends, people who knew I write, have asked me if I have written anything, multiple times in the past couple of years, I just never felt like I had something to write about. But today as I sat alone, enveloped by this, this feeling, writing was my only friend, my trusted ally, the only one I could turn to. I have acquaintances, friends who confide in me, yet I could never really find anyone and trust them enough to confide in them. Today I was overwhelmed with this urge to vomit every word I have gulped and dissolved in the past year. 

It has been ages since I thought of this blog. I had started writing as an outlet, mostly out of loneliness. And here I am, years later, back to my first comfort. It'll be a shame if it turns out to be a one time thing.