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Happy Holidays from Sid

Some people cope by changing themselves. Change can be amazing. Somewhat therapeutic. You surround yourself with difference, wrapping it around yourself till who you were can’t be seen anymore. You cut off the hair that someone once loved. You change its color, its texture. Everything. You get new glasses, new frames to put our eyes on display. Or you begin wearing sunglasses all the time like some edgy youth, covering yourself in darkness. You get new clothes, new shoes, new piercings. Tiny t-shirts become huge sweaters to disappear into. You transform yourself till you can’t recognize any hint of past lives and loves on us. Eat differently, or stop eating altogether. Paint on make up, or take it all off. As long as it wasn’t what you did before. You get rid of that lipstick shade that used to grace the cheek of whoever you had decided to love. Different music gets turned up late at night when you can’t sleep. New people show up went you’re knee deep in problems and can’t pull yourself out. Nails start getting religiously painted to calm your nerves instead of reaching for a cigarette. All is fresh and new and clean. You’re so sterilized now, no more mess. You are clinical, calculated, predetermined. But you can’t change who you are inside. Behind everything on the surface, there you are. Same old you. Not new at all. Same pretty thoughts. Same unshakeable, unnoticeable little tendencies. Your constant habit of rubbing one leg against the back of the other when you’re unsure of something. How you pick at the skin on your fingers when you’re frustrated. The way you can constantly be found on the balcony at two am trying to breathe. The fact that you cover your mouth when you smile. You’re still right fucking there. Despite trying so hard to run from yourself, all you ended up with was a stranger to stare back at you in the mirror and the same old problems whispering to you in your bed at night. It’s like you’re playing hide and seek with your stubborn, uncooperative two year old self. You could find yourself so simply if you just looked in the first place. You’re in there.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #99