The time comes around again, and I think, nothing changes, it all stays the same. Numb.

But then I scrape back a bit of the callouse, and below I see the pink flesh of happiness, and things learnt,of people met, of laughter shared, but then I see the small scar running through it, of people lost, happily, as they moved on with lives and loves and new jobs and new cities and new countries, and the scar runs raw where I see friendships that have fractured and been lost to me through accident and tears and heartache.

And I remember that maybe it is easier to just think, nothing changes, it all stays the same. Numb.