If someone had told me back then that this is what my life would be like, six months down the road, I would have chuckled! Landing a job right as I was graduating, discovering the joy of working brutally long hours at said job, learning to be dependent on someone else other than myself, its been quite the change.
Change is good. Change is inevitable. After all, it's the only thing that remains constant. I haven't quite made peace with all these changes. And yet, there is a weird sense of normalcy, that of being in a routine. I keep drifting away with the winds of change, only to be reeled in occasionally by a strong tug that invokes a comforting feeling. That of being home.
But it's ironic as well. Because I hardly feel at home where I reside. Every piece of furniture, from the luxurious leather sofa that I am lying on as I type this, to the colored stripes of the oven mittens, the tiniest of details carry my imprint. Then why the sense of detachment? Why am I awake at 2 AM when I have everything I need right next to me? That is a question I cannot answer right now. I can only look up at the night sky, bracing myself for the winds of change to bear down and whisk me away again.
