Much as we wouldn't want to admit it, we do change. Life, people, and circumstances, mold you, squeeze you till you asphyxiate, and then breathe new life into you, making you more different--with different beliefs and principles.
So, with a twinge of nostalgia pinching my gut, I remember the happy, 'cookie-devouring, music-video-watching, sparkly-hair-clip-wearing' teenage me. And then I revert to the unending stack of chores, and the big question that keeps popping up. "what next?" And suddenly, all those nifty squabbles over 'who-said-what-about-you' just seem trivial and stupid. The big question needs to be answered. Soon.
In the process of being exposed, I seek to retrieve the lost pieces of the puzzle--they're not really lost, you see--they're hibernating in peaceful solace, hiding from the jagged edges of the objects that are hurtled towards it.
