new girl

View from the house

The feeling of being almost half-real, where every experience no longer has that continuity of

all the years of time that carried a consciousness that somehow streamed, slowly writhing through the world you lived and made inside, leading and flowing and ebbing and swaying, as it passed through those years, carrying you, and yet you changed continuously, letting strips of your self float and writhe and become something else, until

it forms you as you are now, but in another nanosecond

you have changed again,

and now, you don’t really carry that feeling of being formed by years,

now you are new, you are just born, you are unchained, and unconnected with the past, your past,

so everything that your consciousness floats through, such as time and space and other such unreal things, feels so different and new and exciting again, because you are new, and bursting with it; its not that you have forgotten your past self, you just don’t really focus on her or remember in your old ways anymore, its like

that girl who walked along the drain wall, feeling like she was a rotting worm being sucked into the soil

or that girl who waited in the sudden burst of detached yellow leaves, from the old trees, as the winds of the storm rose up like a pounding, roaring drum through her body,

or the one that slid into a pit after having knowing, and knowing too much,

or the girl who ran through the safe ways, as she had thoughts of living in that pit again,

are other people, are someone else, are movies, are old  black and white films, are crumbled books from the middle ages, are rocks from the stone caves, are stardust bits, from eons ago,

while now you are new, the air tastes different, you feel like you are blanketed in something warm and fuzzy always, and you feel graceful, and light,

like a girl again.

the new girl.

About theshadowsofthenight

An amateur writer and amateur artist :)
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