Changed

Last Monday, I came across Imelda, an old friend, in the terminal. They always feel awkward, those encounters, with people you cease to know anything about. In your head, their image is drawn the way you last saw them in but then, you discover that they’ve had their own share of  noise in their life. I’d lost all contact with her for a long while, so it was quite a good chance for us to catch up on what we’d missed. Our short conversation would have been perfectly normal for two people seeing each other for the first time in months, if not for the remark she made before leaving.

“You look so changed,” she said.

    I'm come into throes of wonder in what she meant. That was how her words seemed to add shades of feelings to my day.  I wanted to ask her what she’d meant but something hindered me from it; perhaps I was afraid of what the answer might be. And perhaps, I just didn’t want to know.

    My first day in this place, everything was so shiny I had to cover my eyes so they wouldn’t be blinded. But it was never that sort of light the sun emits, it was more like the luster of cold metal. And as I came to know, nothing in here had a hint of life about it. Sometimes, I felt the coldness clambering my bones deep in summer and had to clutch the quilts tightly.

    It took me quite some time to adapt to the new world. Before that, I made a hobby of guessing what people were saying. I dress the way they dress and tried to look like them. I made imaginary scenarios that made no sense giving myself a good laugh. But then, it constantly reminded me of how far away from home I was. I’d then throw my head against the wall and look at the moon. It sure was the only thing that still looked the same in my life. Now, I could talk their language  and be like them with no one noticing but had I lost myself in the process?

    I rushed to my room rummaging the wardrobe for something, anything, from there. A small mirror fell on the ground and broke in what seemed a dozen pieces.

In all these shreds, I couldn’t see the girl I recognized as myself. 
    I've lost my old self. I am anew. 
After a long while, I've come to terms with the new me. I am not the girl I was. I am better off now. I accept the price of being anew and wholeheartedly I shed off this old skin and step into a new path.
  I picked up the shards of glass. Carefully, and one by one, I collected them into my other palm.
I have lost a version of me. But I will still prefer the present me. I am forever progressing, evolving into actualization - constantly I will change not for anyone but for myself for I deserve it.
  I looked at the shards of glass for the last time and threw them in the bin. I don't feel anything. Maybe I'm just numb or maybe I'm just glad that this is unfolding.