i gave what i gave.

i've been feeling detached from my journal for lack of proper words, or loss of any words at all, really. my life seems to be precisely what i percieve it to be, no more, no less. i suppose i've had a bland reality check. i'm not lost in my own head like i typically find myself, but instead i think i'm becoming slightly vacant all together. i'm unsure of why, but i don't really feel up to analyzing my life at this point anymore. i saw people i haven't seen in years, and suddenly i felt as though my life hadn't changed at all. i was suddenly the same girl, with the same thoughts, the same insecurities, the same laugh. and those people never stopped caring for me. they loved who i was, and to them i am no different.

i'm not sure i would desire to change, but maybe i expected all of my memories of who i was to die, and disappear from my thoughts. and so i witnessed the death of my memories, began to grieve, and woke to find that all of my memories had gathered and come back to life as ghosts. i'm unsure these ghosts are welcome to hover around me while i go through my day. even if they represent who i was, they aren't alive anymore, and i don't think they should be allowed to come and go as they please.

i think i always expected my mind to grow old and my memories to lose meaning with time. but it seems now that i'm entirely more lucid than i thought i would be, signifcantly aware of every change ever presented to me in my life, and that i possess the same mind i will always have. i just don't seem to feel any different, and i thought i would. as a little girl i always wanted to feel a year older by each birthday. and i would search for any tangible difference in between who i am today, and who i was the day before.

i am weary of becoming an old woman for fear that my mind will always be so perfectly intact, so alive, just as it is now.