Change

"If change is the only constant, then there is no real constant." 

It intrigues me that how impressionable and changeable we are - how very so that I, too, am.

I once promised myself I won't change myself (assuming that I subconsciously referred to my strengths rather than weaknesses) even in the face of insurmountable pressure. Unlike those spineless wimps who cave in to the imagined societal pressure, I who possess a backbone crafted out of titanium and carbon fiber will hold true to myself.

Which begs the question: what is the concept of Self in the first place?

It is imagined, perhaps as much as it is precipitated out of other's construction of your identity. I won't belabor this post by delving into extra and unnecessary elucidation about the philosophy of self, but bear this in mind as you read: the self is a changing and fluid identity (yes, SE1101 reference).

So here is the nexus of today's post.

I have changed. I am changing. I am not sure for the better or for the worst, but I would like to see it is a miniature form of evolution that is going on in my own mind and body to allow me to adapt better to my surroundings.

I am changing to protect myself better, but that could also mean that I might hurt others more.

Nah, that's a false dichotomy. My self-protection doesn't necessitate the emotional wounding of another.

That  made me feel marginally better.

I won't hold on as much anymore. It takes two to clap. I might have been exhausted and burnt out from trying, and maybe in time I will try again, but at the moment, I do my part and leave the rest out to a combination of fate and another's effort.

Change is not entirely a bad thing.
It is merely a new thing.

I do ponder why people throw out sentences like "You have changed." with the same level of gravity that a judge convicts a criminal of murder.

It happens all the time. Discretely or outlandishly.

So I have changed. Some days I look back upon myself from just half a year ago and miss her alacrity.

The same night whitening the same trees,

We of that time, are no longer the same.

- Pablo Neruda