I am guilty of wishing it to fly faster. That would be my selfishness speaking, refusing to come to terms with time. Desperately wanting to skip the many goodbyes I've had (and will have to) say.
Reality has sort of been a blur.
There is this transitional phase I have undergone; metaphorically, this one step that separates my past and enters me into another world of untarnished colour.
Well, this world seems too new at the moment.
Practically empty.
Empty of thoughts. Empty of memories.
Empty of thoughts. Empty of memories.
Do I miss the past? At the moment, I think I do. Just yesterday I passed by the street I first moved into, first arriving to this country. By the landmarks that marked memories. Then passed this structure symbolic of this transition, a place I used to call my 'second-home' from having spent more time there than anywhere else. I'd thought to myself then, that I can no longer call the place 'my school'. I've used that possessive noun far too loosely many times that I overlooked the truth. It's really funny how from a silly statement like that evoked a twisted frenzy of time, feelings and memories. Making me feel trapped.
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