Slips By
Sometimes life can catch us unawares. Especially when we least expect it. And while nothing particularly major has prompted this simple realization, it had been the culmination of many different and small things.
It can be hard, when you realize that things have changed. Sometimes so slowly you don't even see once something has been completely turned around, others more quickly.
It's strange to think about, all these simple days going by one by one. So unassuming. And yet, they pass.
Each day passes whether I make something of it or not. Each day goes by and many I don't even realize. Hours slip away until I don't even realize they've done it. Until before long, it's a new day again.
When did this happen, and why? Are hours suddenly shorter or filled less somehow. I doubt that. I believe it is me who has changed. That tends to happen, especially when we least expect it.
When did I get to be this age? How come some things from years ago still seem like yesterday? While yesterday, seems so far away.
Life is infinitely strange. That much is true. But how come so many of the simpler and smaller changes, add together to make it so new. When did I reach this point, to when a painting and a sketch could take an afternoon, instead of a day and rest?
When did I learn to use these words, to form these thoughts and to make worlds and people come to life?
When did I learn? And how long ago.
I feel a strange sense of nostalgia over the fact that I do not know. I don't always remember the small things. And that makes me a little sad. Because, at the same time, it's the little things that I try to remember.
I don't say this to be depressing. Nor to make you feel odd, or perhaps even sad. I suppose I am asking this because I truly do wonder... when did things change so completely?
It can be hard, when you realize that things have changed. Sometimes so slowly you don't even see once something has been completely turned around, others more quickly.
It's strange to think about, all these simple days going by one by one. So unassuming. And yet, they pass.
Each day passes whether I make something of it or not. Each day goes by and many I don't even realize. Hours slip away until I don't even realize they've done it. Until before long, it's a new day again.
When did this happen, and why? Are hours suddenly shorter or filled less somehow. I doubt that. I believe it is me who has changed. That tends to happen, especially when we least expect it.
When did I get to be this age? How come some things from years ago still seem like yesterday? While yesterday, seems so far away.
Life is infinitely strange. That much is true. But how come so many of the simpler and smaller changes, add together to make it so new. When did I reach this point, to when a painting and a sketch could take an afternoon, instead of a day and rest?
When did I learn to use these words, to form these thoughts and to make worlds and people come to life?
When did I learn? And how long ago.
I feel a strange sense of nostalgia over the fact that I do not know. I don't always remember the small things. And that makes me a little sad. Because, at the same time, it's the little things that I try to remember.
I don't say this to be depressing. Nor to make you feel odd, or perhaps even sad. I suppose I am asking this because I truly do wonder... when did things change so completely?
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