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Writing

Habits

There is no switch. There is no on and off. There is no automatic pivot in direction. I can’t just change a habit.

Fiction often speaks of that revelatory moment, that sudden shift in perspective. The moment where things just change. For me, it is more like a few steps forward and a couple back, with sidesteps sprinkled here and there until I hardly even know where I am going anymore. For me, it comes in seasons. At one time, it smells of flowers and the sun after weeks of darkness; at another, I am watching the dead leaves fall around me once again.

Years learning how to behave around someone does not just change because they do. Years spent learning to love something does not just leave when they do. It is hard to continuously remind yourself not to feel a certain way, not to do a particular thing. I suppose the only motivation is the fact that it works both ways:

It is painful to change when people treat you as if you haven’t.

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