Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I barely recognise myself. I run my fingers across my face, and it feels like I am touching a stranger.
On some nights, sadness envelopes in ways that I feel myself melting away, little by little. I have said things that I never thought I would, and I have done things that I never thought I would.
No matter what all the fucked up, popular quotes say, I don’t believe that anyone ever finds themselves entirely. I don’t think anyone ever will ever make sense of everything that is inside them.
And as scary and terrible it sounds, I think that’s part of the beauty. I think that’s part of the magic.
We are all shores, and we all change every time the ocean of life touches us, no matter how briefly. Maybe we are not the destination; perhaps we are the roads which go endlessly changing with time.
Maybe it is not about finding yourself. Maybe it is about being a mosaic of too many beautiful moments coupled with a devastating melancholy and the tragic sense of nostalgia.