I’ve recently started writing letters to myself. It is addressed as so:

“To whomever you end up being,

Wherever this finds you,

Whenever this finds you.”

I’ve always had a thing for documenting my thoughts, days and life. Whenever I go back to read my entries years later, it’s like looking into someone else’s mind. It strikes me how much I’ve changed. Matured in some ways, child-like in others. 

I’m of the opinion that our general existence is like a painting. The general basic sketch remains the same but with each phase in our lives, with each experience, it is altered and takes on a new form sometimes subtle, other times marked.

I watched a movie about seven years back and the heroine wanted a divorce. When asked why, she claimed her husband had changed beyond recognition. Not in a bad way but she reportedly felt she was living with a stranger. “People have a right to change” one of her friends told her. Till today, I still think about it because I still can’t figure out the situation. Was accepting her “changed” husband so hard?

We change but may not notice because we don’t feel any different. Due to the nature of life, we keep pushing forward, distracted by our daily activities. How many times have we been taken aback by the statement- “you’ve changed”? If I had 1000 Naira every time someone said that to me...

I’m not not the person you once knew. You’re not the person you once knew. With each ticking second of the clock, a change occurs and a new stroke is added to the painting that symbolizes the person you are.