d r i f t w o o d

Driftwood ☽ Chapter One

❛❛nothing is real, not one thing. Not even ourselves.❜❜

-UNKNOWN

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A/N: this book is low key about me lol

driftwood ☽ chapter one

          Dear anyone who finds this, do not blame the gods. We only wanted more.

          We opened our doors to new things: new people, new situations, new places. And liked to believe that it was simply because there was no room for judgment where new things stood. They were always welcoming, always refreshing and calm. They never came easy either; new things. It all had to start slowly at first, you'd find yourself opening up, breathing more calmly, smiling. Almost like a cool summer morning, or the first day of fall. And then all at once you'd be different. Or at least, a different version of what you used to be. A good different, a better one.

          I grew up having to learn how to transition from one thing to another, be it a home or friends or school. For me, it was something I grew used to. Something that never bothered me but still managed to keep me quite speechless. It was like experiencing the voice of an exquisitely beautiful woman in the flesh so that when her sound reached your ears, you could feel your skin jump from your bone and your heart dissipate.

          All of it was nostalgic and warm like a childhood home. It simply left you speechless. Although I suppose no one really likes change, it's something to grow accustomed to because it's always going to be there and there is nothing we can do about it.

          Leaving was always a part of change I had to face. I was always leaving things behind and it was somewhat refreshing. There was something about waking up in the morning and walking out of the gate for the very last time, or looking at your dog and realizing you would never pet his fur again, or staring at your lover and burying your face into the crook of their neck one more time. There was something about looking back over your shoulder as you slowly walked to your car and starting your engine at four in the morning, rolling down the dusty street and watching your life fade into the horizon. There was something about waking up the next day and deciding that you would be alright.

          Despite all the times I had done it, leaving was always tough. It was —among so many things—the most painful thing I had ever had to do. Sometimes even though something was painful, I always found it necessary to do. It was so easy to be angry, so easy to be sad and regretful of the friendships I'd wasted. Of the alternate lives I'd left. 

           It was so easy. 

           But I realized how much more there was beyond me. I supposed that even though I was leaving the people that had made me who I am, I was going to carry little pieces of them with me. I understood so many things. I learned a new thing each time.

          Things had to change, but we didn't.

          There was definitely an element of change that I loved more than anything else. The way it made me feel fresh, raw. New. It was almost exhilarating after the sorrow, to realize that you would never see the people you'd come to love, but it was okay. It was okay because you weren't going to be sad forever. It was okay because there would always be something new for you. It was okay because you were all going to be okay.