The character of my page has changed. In the early days, I would gripe, I would rail, I would rant and scream at the things that sadden me, the wrongs that are done to people, to the world.

I have not forgotten that. But somehow, I have stopped talking about them here. I'm not sure why.

I still write about them. Just not here.

Which is why I think my page doesn't reflect the totality of me anymore.

Maybe I have become more internalized. Maybe I have become more segmented. I hope it is not because I have gotten old. I do not want to become like the self-absorbed dispassionate grown-ups I hated when younger.

For now I content myself by reminding me that this is not me. That I express my desire for justice in other ways. I hope this never becomes an excuse.

Only time will tell, I suppose. Which is why I've been avoiding other people at this uncertain stage in life. Because I don't know if what they're saying is what will be. If what I'm saying is what will be. Desires that expand beyond ourselves shrink over time, and I do not know where it will stop. Where the internal contractions end, or if they do.

Late twentysomethings should be quarantined.