1621/290514: walking home from the doctors this afternoon i stopped in the middle of a semi-crowded area outside the train station. i’ve realised how much i’ve changed in a few months, and i’m not entirely sure whether the change was good or bad. i guess i never knew. i thought it was better this way– relatively happy, relatively content. but at the same time i know that i’ve changed for the worse, too. at what age did i lose my compassion? maybe when i started to become happier, maybe i was so self-absorbed in trying to satisfy myself i lost track of everything else and everyone else around me. i know i was a much more sensitive person sad. maybe in the midst of my sadness i tried so hard to make people, strangers around me happier, just so they wouldn’t have had to feel the way i did. at this moment i would give anything to get that sensitivity back. that was the one thing that kept me going, i loved the way everything was important– everything other than me and i would relish in that feeling. i think i’ve lost it. have i? the walk back i noticed how i’m viewing things and it’s different now. am i indifferent? some nights i walk home with the enjoyment of everything around me, wind and grass and sky and buses and lonely strangers and all, but i’m losing it now. these things came easier when i was sad. pleasure in the small things i had because i knew there wasn’t much more. but now i’m happier i think i’ve gone past that stage of enjoying little things. that always happens, no? i know i was a better person when i was sad, and it hurts to know that that wasn’t that long ago. a few months? anything, i would give anything to be that person again, sensitivity and compassion: and right now i know that i would choose sadness over this indifference, over this happiness, any day. and if sensitivity makes me happy, maybe i was subtly happy, sad.