Unwritten

I know I have beautiful words burning inside of me. They want to break free. I want to create and make a difference in this world I despise. I fall. I want to be set free.

Looking at pictures of crashed cars is comforting. Something about staring at the shattered glass makes me feel that my life is in order. That, compared to that car, my life is a bundle of hope.

Nothing lasts forever. Not happiness, or sadness. Not hope, or despair. This however disheartening, is a good thing. How are we to appreciate the things that mean the most to us unless we lose them?

I’m starting to think that people are less complicated then I once thought. Humans are quite capable of change. We are adaptive. We have evolved. We change. So why is it we never want to change things about ourselves? We always seem convinced that we are in no position to change, and that it is others who must learn to accept us as we as.

I for one have always believed that I should not change for anyone or anything. Not a job. Or friend. Or society. Stick it to the man, and all that. However, lately, I’ve realized I have changed. I have changed drastically. And I didn’t even notice it taking place. And while change is generally looked upon with disdain, it’s effect is dependent upon whether we accept it, however grudgingly, or fight it tooth and nail.

Whether we want things in our lives to change or not is inconsequential. Change happens and life goes on without you if your not prepared. So we can either live with regrets and stay set in our ways or grab our life vest and hope for the best.