... Read moreReading this poem, 'I used to be fun,' really hit home for me. It's like looking into a mirror, isn't it? That feeling of a drastic shift, where the person you were seems so distant, almost a stranger. It's not just about missing the 'fun' version of yourself, but facing this new, perhaps more vulnerable, self that emerges when life throws its curveballs. It’s a profound sense of loss, not of someone else, but of a part of you.
For me, the idea that 'change scares me' resonates profoundly. It's not just about the big, obvious life events; sometimes it’s the subtle, insidious shifts within yourself that are most unsettling. One day you wake up and realize you're not the same person who used to laugh so easily or stand so tall. Suddenly, you find yourself hesitant, perhaps even 'cowering to your knees' metaphorically, shielding yourself from situations or emotions that never bothered you before. There's a palpable fear that comes with looking at your own reflection and seeing a 'face sinks in' where there used to be a vibrant glimmer. It’s like your 'bones are weak' under the sheer weight of these new, heavy feelings, making every step forward feel like a monumental effort.
Then there's the 'scared of the dark' aspect. This isn't just about a physical fear of shadows at night. It’s that deep, unsettling feeling when you’re alone with your thoughts, and the future feels utterly uncertain, almost 'burning up' before your eyes. It’s the anxiety that creeps in when silence falls, and your mind starts to play tricks on you, conjuring up worst-case scenarios. You start to 'see things in darkness when you're scared' – not literally monsters, but abstract worries, magnified doubts, and the terrifying potential of what might happen. The poem perfectly captures that sense of invisible 'hands that hide in it,' lurking in the unknown, in the quiet moments of vulnerability.
I remember a time when I 'used to pity the girl who sat alone,' always wanting to invite her into my circle. But now, strangely, there are moments I 'blink twice across the bar and hope she'll save me a seat.' It's a weird, almost contradictory shift from seeking constant connection to almost 'begging to be lonely' as a form of self-preservation. It’s a craving for a quiet space where you can process all these overwhelming changes without judgment, without having to perform or explain. You find yourself 'repenting for your dreams,' questioning the very aspirations that once fueled you.
This journey of feeling lost, of being 'scared of dark' places both outside and intrinsically within, is incredibly isolating. We often feel compelled to put on a brave face, to pretend everything is fine, but deep down, these transformations can truly shake us to our core. It’s okay to feel this way, to acknowledge that change can be terrifying, and that sometimes, the 'fun' version of ourselves needs a moment to rest, to heal, and to recalibrate amidst the uncertainty. For anyone going through something similar, just know you’re absolutely not alone in feeling that raw fear, in those moments where you desperately wish you could just glimmer with that old light again.