It's funny how I used to hate oatmeal and now I love it to bits. I haven't a clue why oatmeal popped into my head. Maybe 'cos it's the very symbol of 'Old People' food and it's funny how our tastes change. How our everything changes as time wears on... I'd like to think that I am the same person and will remain true to 'who I am'. But that in itself is an oxymoron, as who I am five years or even five minutes ago is different from the 'Me' in this moment.

I fear that change.

We become bland. Even my taste-buds that prefer oatmeal to that pack of sweets now. I am bland. Even as I continue to change, I want to remember myself. To remind myself of how I was before. To bottle up my youth, freeze it in pictures and immortalize it in words then bury it in a box. More than ever, I feel the sands of time slipping through my clumsy fingers. I want to catch each grain...

I want to change.