You Can't Turn Toast Into Bread

You can't turn toast into bread... meaning that after things change, you can't go back and undo them.

Where have I gone to? I once knew where I was. I once knew where I was going. I once knew where I came from, and I once knew that no matter where I turned, someone would know me, even if I didn't know them. But where have I gone to? No one seems to ask anymore... I guess this just goes to prove that no matter what memories you try to leave with someone, eventually, their memories of you die and pass on into... nothing? So therefore... I've gone nowhere?

Precisely. I think I'm stuck. Not just stuck where I am in the physical world, but stuck in time. If anyone should think of me, they will always remember me as I was. They couldn't imagine where I might be, especially if I've gone nowhere at all. And as sad as that seems, I believe I may feel the same way about them as well?

I know my best friends are growing up and living with their boyfriends, and taking care of themselves in their own homes, off to college and actually living their lives for themselves, but I think that I'll always remember them as they were. In some ways, it's very good. It makes for a lot of precious memories. But in a lot of ways.. it hurts. I see them changing into something better, and here I am, forgotten, stuck, and going nowhere fast.

Am I jealous? Most likely... I guess I just hate that fact that in my mind, I know that things can never be the same. So many changes happen and as for those great memories? We can never go back to them. In our minds, yes, but nothing will ever be the same. And it's not just with my friends. It's with everything. Every once in a while, I get these old sensations of things I felt before. Feelings that bring up memories that had been lying dormant for a while. Feelings that made me feel like life was actually worth living. And being me, of course I'm going to dwell on it, and I feel so empty inside.

I feel a great ache because I know it's gone and it won't come back. Not for anybody, and especially not for me. My friend Amber calls me a romanticist, and she says I feel too much emotion. As much as I would like to take that as something good, I often find myself cursing myself for it. If I didn't feel too much, I wouldn't hurt so much. Will there ever be a place in life for a person like me, or will I only be free of sorrow when my body withers away and the fire of my soul finally dwindles and dies?

current mood:  gloomy