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I want to write but I feel I can’t, like words want to tumble out but I’m different, and the new girl won’t let me, my more lyrical thoughts become a mouthful word stuck on a stutterer’s tongue. I want to hack at the words, force them out of my mind and on to paper, but they don’t come out. Through words experiences have been shared, tears have freely flowed, and love was easily expressed. I have bled and I have healed. Yet this time I feel a hardness inside, so the words struggle to tumble out, yet. . .this is not goodbye.
I don’t know yet what this is, there is a newness and a strength that I welcome, yet I miss my butterfly girl, I want to continue pouring out her beauty, her heart on paper, but I can’t. Her heart has changed, her back is straighter, her thoughts not fleeting, her eyes are still gentle, but they are not the same, they burn differently. Her heart is still the same, only forged by different metal. I want my fragile beauty, but she is gone, in her place a new beauty has been formed. . .
I want to be bitter, to scream. . . to be vengeful, to mourn my fragile beauty, yet, she was meant to leave, her time was up. The woman in her place is different, sharper, stronger, a granite beauty. Maybe she was always here, encased by ms. fragile, patiently awaiting her turn. I want to write but words, words. . . I can’t seem to find them. Perhaps it’s because I am still trying to fit fragile’s mind into granite’s spirit. Perhaps I allow granite her own words, her own opinions. Opinions which I find altogether unromantic and too inflaming, not soft or ethereal, opinions that make me uncomfortable. I’m not yet sure what her words are. . . but they will come.

Change is like the wind, it cannot be touched, and it cannot be stopped, it comes, turns the wind vanes and goes, I cannot cling to a person I`ve grown out of, she was cherished. . . she cannot be forgotten, growth has happened, and I`m learning to make peace with the new. To accept the disruption. The wind of growth has done its rounds, it came and silently took my fragile beauty, and left a granite princess in its place. – Kalahari sunset, Rika de klerk art studios