Split-Seconds

In a day, there always comes a time, mostly just in split-seconds or half-minutes, when the disparity between my past and my present touches and shocks all of me. I always see myself flinching, shaking my head, and sighing heavily, in utter strangeness. I can’t quite put my finger on how it’s genuinely like. Suddenly, my reality appears in 3D or 4D; too big, too loud, extremely magnified for my eyes to process altogether. Everything shows in layers, in waves, in palettes of colours that just flow in a canvas that has no clear bounds and direction. I am taken, to existences that go beyond my breaking of boxes, and counting dimes and cents, and smiling at random individuals. Looking around, I still get surprised by the now common faces surrounding me. I miss the old faces I grew up with and love, the faces who see past my facades and phases and reasons. Until when, will my current truths overwhelm me? Up to what extent, will I continue to shed and lose myself, or the being I thought I was and am? How do I stop resisting and begin adapting to the various landscapes my mind has in it? Will I ever find myself and my heart in this familiar yet foreign-seeming city that is Toronto? Will I get to have split-seconds and half-minutes without the toasting desire to flinch and run and disappear? Will I ever succeed in making myself believe that this is now my home?

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