Change

Some say they fear change. I fear not changing.

I have tried to change myself; tried to grow in some areas and shrink in others. It feels like everybody around me carries this underlying feeling of resentment that I have somehow evoked. For better or for worse, I have tried to change many times. I have thought long and hard about who I am, and who I want to be, only to find that the two are not the same.

That ultimate conclusion is often hard to stomach. Long, restless nights of regret and apologies. "Why am I?": The question of existance. What makes me this? And is there a way to break from who I am?

I often debase myself and ask who I can blame. Was it the lack of religion in my upbringing? Was I blinded as a child, teenager, adult? Was it the hands of society that molded me? Who will carry this burden? The answer is, inevitably, me.

It all boils down to my own flawed volition I think. I have grown into a person I don't want to be, and like Sisyphus, I will forever be trying to change that. It truely is cyclical; I am reminded time and time again that I have not changed; I am still this person I don't want to be.

Yet, constantly ignoring the looming reality that it may be too late, I set out to balance myself, judging myself in every social situation, regressing to my mind often for confession. Walking on eggshells, fearing what I might do next. Is it plausible to accept this? Plausible to accept myself?

The worst part of it is, I have a sneaking suspicion that everybody knows who I am, and that's what I'm afraid of.

I fear not changing.