I’m scared- more than anything. I’m not worried about making friends, I’m not worried about ‘fitting in,’ because I can do that- I’ve done it before. I’m more afraid of losing the friends I have, of forgetting, of changing. Because honestly, I’m perfectly content with my life right now, and I’m not ready to let that go.
“If I could open my arms And span the length of the isle of Manhattan, I’d bring it to where you are Making a lake of the East River and Hudson If I could open my mouth Wide enough for a marching band to march out They would make your name sing And bend through alleys and bounce off all the buildings.”
I hate the path my life tends to take- an inconsistant ebb and flow, leaving me often confused and in a haze, a false sense of security. Every time I become acclimated to a place, I am not allowed to stay. I am uprooted and transfered, to a new place, with new people, and new hardships. I have yet to experience the fullness and joy of that security, and I doubt that I ever will.
The worst is the people I lose- the strong bond I have formed with someone is often lost with each transfer. Try as we might, we drift, we change, and soon; we forget each others faces, and then each others names. That hurts me the most. Because I love them. Because I know everything about them, and at one point in time- their struggles were also my own.
I just don’t want what I once wanted, anymore. I just want consistency.