I turned 38 in February. I feel like I’ve earned every one of those 38 years. But it’s strange to look back at those years and see a Joy I barely recognize.
I’ve been changing all my life. You’d think I’d know how to do it by now. I think I should, anyway.
You and I are fluid as the clouds. Never still. Sometimes racing, other times languid. Sometimes heavy and dark, others wispy and delicate. I envy the clouds’ effortless change. Becoming ourselves is damn hard.
If you knew me Back Then, you knew a different me. But I never leave any previous Joys behind completely. They’ve left their fingerprints, or sometimes scars, behind.