How I've Changed Over the Years

Every day that passes, I feel the pull to change. When I was small, I didn't worry about tomorrow. Time just moved. Hours passed. I went to school, spent the day there, came home at night. Nobody picks me up now. I've had trouble finding friends who understand me. My fearful, shy nature doesn't help. With no one to defend me, my mistakes stick in people's memory. Class after class, I slowly learned to speak—I'm not mute, but sometimes it's like my temperament shuts down, like no one was listening to me anyway, and I blame myself. I find people better than me. I've noticed it often, hiding behind whoever stands in front of me. When I'm called on to answer, I freeze. But as the hours pass, I find the strength to repeat what I've learned. Today I've finished school and I work. But it was hard—so hard—to find a steady job. Now I have people who respect me. Some days I'm a pessimist. I want to walk away, drop everything. I can't do that. I've been trained to show up, even when I'm struggling, drawing on the inner strength that defines me. Part of me wants something more in life. But nothing happens. A better life—it's not possible. There are problems in the city. Everyone guards what they have jealously, or piles up money just to spend it every day. Deep down, none of us are happy with those in power. But I side with the stronger ones. Now I have many friends, in every corner of my life. But when I'm alone, I miss the people I care about. It hurts when they pull away. I think about them and don't know where they've gone. When I run into my old friends, I say hello and wonder what went wrong—a move to a new house, a new job, getting closer to home. What terrifies me is starting over from nothing. I dream. I see myself in the mirror, though nobody notices. I've aged. For better and worse. But I've never had that one thing that fills me with joy.