This is another one of these days; the ones that gently (or roughly) float you by. The ones that never seem to change anything but when you look back everything has changed. The ones where there’s a long stretch of silence across the dinner table besides the occasional clinking of Mum’s favourite cutlery which mind you, only comes out on special occasions. The ones where you sigh and feel a slight feeling of dread come over you because you know the bad life is finally catching up.
That's the moment right there: The moment you realize you're not who you used to be at all but a mere copy of your old self who had been left somewhere behind a long time ago, and you know isn't coming back. And then you suddenly think ahead, your old self not coming back is probably for the best. It's probably better you never find out. Because searching for the truth is like digging up concrete with a broken fingernail. It hurts.