Except on some level I’m watching for them, waiting for them, and it suddenly hits me that I’m allowing my life to fall back into exactly the same shape it was the first time round: gravitating toward familiarity and repetition, the way I always do. Encouraging the sameness, because even when it’s awful, I still like it more than change. Slipping back into time as if it’s an old pair of comfy slippers I refuse to throw away, even though they’re not even that comfortable anymore and my toes are sticking out and getting cold. And this wasn’t the point of what it is I’m trying to do. I’m supposed
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