I had this fear, a fear of losing my self, my being, the whole persona, freedom, the way I look and the free-spirit way I think.
Maybe you can call it a fear of getting old, because as I age, somehow someday I'll lose it all. A desperate, clawing need to hang on tightly to what I am now, stay like this forever......
But then last week, I remembered an old box.....found it, dusted it off, and uncovered 4 year's worth of memories. Pulled out the latest, a diary I'd written in 9th grade, and in its colourfully inked happenings I saw....well, a stupid kid. A kid who cared too much about all the wrong things, a kid who didn't THINK at all! More happenings, events, kiddish excitement. OMG this and OMG that.(I still have the excitement.)
But by God I'd changed, and you know what, I liked it. I liked what I saw in the mirror now, I liked myself a little better, okay, much better, than I liked the girl who'd written in that book.
I'd kinda lost a whole self. Gradually,like cats shed their fur, like snakes shed skin, scales dropped off, rubbed of, and I'm reborn from the ashes.
And even in 9th, wasn't that my greatest fear? Losing my self?
And I'd never even noticed. So painless. Kinda like an injection, you know, you're waiting, cringing, dreading, anticipating the needle into your skin, and then suddelny they tell you, it's over....and you go "wha'?? when??"
So I think it makes sense to drop that irrational phobia now....
I guess change is inevitable, what we define is its direction.