on change (IV)

it was inevitable that a.'s change would affect me deeply (far more than i could ever anticipate), that nothing would ever be the same. so, nothing that happened (that happens) has really come as a big surprise - my world, it seems, was doomed from the start anyway. what i never thought was that it would reach beyond me, and shatter worlds that i thought safe. okay, that possibility is not that surprising if i think about it. but i never did, and that possibility never for a moment crossed my mind, not even in my wildest dreams. but i see it now, just as i've witnessed all the change. and it makes sense, actually it makes a lot of sense if you ask me, and all the piece of a.'s puzzle fit perfectly. you and me, my dear, we do have something in common: we both belong to the past. and when the change itself is the goal, to erase the past becomes more than an accident: it becomes a need. and that need forces everything that belongs to the past to become disposable. 

and people, after all, are disposable. believe me: when things reach that point, people are always the weakest link. we do pick up a handful of them, maybe even les, and allow them to stay with us as long as they ask no questions. everyone else is left behind, for the new world we're making has no room for them. for they do not belong - the change we forced in ourselves made them uninteresting, boring, tedious. annoying, even. we're a new person, after all (always wishful thinking). a cool person. we don't want to hang around with someone who reminds us of how miserable we used to be.

the funny thing is, the past is impossible to erase, and it often has a peculiar sense of retribution. a. will remember it sooner or later. it might be too late for you then, as it is for me already. but a. will remember it. and a. will despair over it. i'm bound to know that: been there, done that. still bear the scars, scars that shall never truly vanish.