Winter of my life

I sit in front of the computer in this icebox of a library as I type. Thoughts come and go, never stopping long enough to make an impression. I look around. Empty, save for a tudung-ed girl opposite me with that intense look in her eyes.

It's been months since I left home. Left that warm, cosy little nest and a hoarde of wonderful friends. And for what? A claustophobia inducing cubicle of a room and people whom I just can't seem to relate to?

It hardly seems worth it.

But then I remind myself to give them a chance... to give myself a chance. I cannot expect everything to be the same, cannot stop things from changing. Life is about change. Things change, people change, nothing remains constant. Perhaps the only constant thing in life is change.

Once upon a time, I looked forward to change. Once upon a time, I welcomed it. Change was something exiting, something new, something to explore, a jack in the box of surprises. But not anymore.

There is a climax to everything, a zenith from where everything after that goes downhill. Have I reached that peak?

I think not.

But why does everything seem to go downhill from here? Have I completely forgotten how to appreciate things? Have I lost that sense of adventure that was so ME, that was my identity? Has city life, and it's attitude of indifference eroded whatever sensitivity I had?

I'm just another person in the faceless and nameless crowd. Just another clone. Just another person trying to feel in a place where all your senses are numb and frozen.

Life seems white and barren. A vast, empty, white field that stretches beyond the horizon.

Welcome...

Welcome to the winter of my life.