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Change

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When I am instructed to dissect and discuss Change, I am intrigued. “Hmmm”, I think as billions of ideas start to burst open in my brain. There are so many directions that you can run in with the topic of “Change”. It is always happening. Government, jobs, friendships, family; I could write about any of these things because they all flip-flop on a daily basis. I’m not sure that I appreciate how parts of everyday life are always being altered, modified, and fixed. I guess that’s where I decided to start…

Oh, Change. The dreaded C-word. You always come at the most inconvenient of times. I do not ask you to come barging in on consistency; you do not do me a favor by making everything unstable. You see, I am a creature of habit. I have been in an on-again-off-again relationship with stability my entire life. I like getting into the groove of things and sticking to plans. I do not believe that makes me strange or alien by any means. I think that is human nature for most people. Yes, some people thrive on spontaneity and on-the-spot decisions, but a lot of the human race like schedules and I’ll-sleep-on-its. I have never been one to adapt well into new and different situations. I am stubborn and have such a hard time grasping why, when everything is fine-and-dandy, you have to flip over the pancake and start new.

Let me tell you a story: there was this girl. Not just any girl, she was magnificent, remarkable. She turned on the light in my soul. She made my lunch hours laughable and my existence endurable. I did not know her for very long, but I had the time of my life with her. She was my best friend.
The Girl was part of a special kind of people. These people touch your life, and the imprint they make never really fades. As of now, my relationship with The Girl consists of remember-when’s, forget-me-not’s, and a lifetime supply of nostalgia. Change ruined us. We lost to life’s transformation, and I am reminded of that every day. Since the last time I saw her, my life has been fumbled around, thrown up against walls, burnt, bruised, and broken, but her once-presence in my life still shines through me like a flashlight. Change taunts me, whispering, “You have no power over me,” into my ear. It is a stalker, following behind me, making sure that nothing stays perfect for too long. Maybe it was merely coincidental that my life started plummeting southward the moment The Girl exited my life. Maybe her moving van driving off into the sunset had nothing to do with my life distressing, but I do not see very large chances in that, so I will continue to blame it all on Change.

Now, I do not want to seem completely pessimistic. I do think that some change can be for the better. If an Afghani woman moves from a war zone to peaceful Suburbia, U.S.A., that would fall into the category of Good Change. But what about going from not having cancer to scheduling radiation treatments? Bad change, bad. Bad Change is going from being a happy young girl frolicking the fields to turning 13 and being diagnosed with depression. Bad change is being alive one day and lying in a coffin the next.

Although change is, well, change, there is an ironic fact about it: it is somewhat regular. It is perpetual. People are always coming and going. Things, feelings, material objects are always either on their way in, or on their way out of our lives. I think everything is temporary, us included, and there is something very standard in that.

Some person much smarter than me once said that there are two things guaranteed in life: birth and death. Maybe there is a third. Maybe change is promised to all of us as well. Think about it: we are always growing and developing. Whether it is gaining a few freckles on your face or shedding some hair from your head, nothing about us stays the same. Everything around us evolves at a constant rate.

It is difficult for me to look at Change as a good thing, for I have been holding a grudge against it for so long. The biased side of me wants to point fingers and blame Change for every negative transition that I have gone through, but the reasonable and wise side says, “No, Change took her away because it was time for her to go. You got The Girl's friendship for a while. Now it is time for her to move on and leave her touch on someone else’s life.”
Perhaps I should recall my original thoughts on the topic of “Change”. Instead of looking at it negatively, I and those like-minded should try to find comfort in change. I have lost a lot on account of it. I mean, who hasn’t lost someone or something to Change? But I think there are things that can bloom from hard times. I, the girl who once frolicked the fields have been changed, but I believe that I will run, dance, and laugh once again.




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