I don’t like change. I feel reluctant to accept it. Changes I bring about by myself are okay, but those inflicted on me aren’t.
The mental turmoil I’m forced to endure to adjust to it is tiresome. I find it hard to believe. As if I’d just woken up from a pretentious dream in which everything’s static.
It takes me a while before I eventually give in. Not like I have a choice. I never find myself welcoming it with open arms. Maybe I’m not versatile. And I thought I’ll never be.
Recently, I began to differ. I just see it in a different perspective now. I don’t try to fight it anymore. The initial reluctance still persists, but it doesn’t eat up my mind.
I slowly learnt that it’s easier if I kept my mind off of it. Well, I knew that before too, we all do. But what’s fascinating is that I had come across situations that had helped me do that.
College took up most of the burden of distracting me. With so many people around, the thought about the change just slips my mind.
But the one I found most helpful was to talk to someone new. Or Someone I hadn’t talked to in a while, for a change. Ironic isn’t it. One change to cover up another. It probably masks the other one. Temporarily.
The only change I’m open to, is a change of place. In me it brings, a change of heart. Different emotions rush in me and I’m piqued by curiosity. I immerse myself in engorging the surroundings and take comfort in the beauty of nature.