The Day After New Year

by Rie

I’ve spent most of the blog silence thinking.

It troubles me that I am not firmly in any camp. I sit on the fence for many things. Often times, however, I find popular opinion nauseating. Your voice is so loud, you are so sure of yourself – let me hide from you now.

I’ve spent most of my thoughts wondering how far I have drifted from the past. I’ve wandered a lot (thank goodness that obnoxious, opinionated child was merely a version of myself). It makes sense, then, that I’ve spent the new year being nostalgic with my family.

Still, change is logical. I can’t play Zoo Tycoon anymore (I can’t even find it!) because tycoon games have fallen out of favour, so I do not. I can’t write the same stories I used to because it grows increasingly hard to relate to thirteen-year-old girls and talking animals (among other things), so I try harder with a different pen. I can’t call on the same people I used to depend on, so I don’t, and I lean on different people.

I don’t like talking about it. Everything in my head kinda falls flat. My brain is running on nothing.

On a much lighter note, I think I understand what it means to be friends with a show. I have loved shows, loved shows so much my heart hurt when they started going downhill, but I have never been friends with one. It is best described as the funny, foreign friend riddled with the flaws and humanity that make the friendship a peculiar but worthy endeavour.

I have definitely made my relationship with the show too serious.

But come to think of it, my approach to relationships is too serious. Despite this, every friendship and relationship isn’t as closely calculated as it should be (should it be?) while my emotional investment in a person always, always scary.

Isn’t it funny that as a child, the only growing you think you have to do is physical? It’s only the passage of time, only the physical lengthening of your limbs. Then, when you hit eighteen, you realise that you’re bleeding out of scars you thought had healed and some organs are just deformed – you break down more than you thought you would.

I can’t think of any resolutions for the new year. I can’t fathom order into this mess.

Now, to pack. I fly again today.

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