Passing observations of the repetition of the same old things.

Small glimpses into ghosts I once knew
Passing observations of the repetition of the same old things.
Being the comfy person everyone wants them to be.
Fitting in the sillohette painted like a web.
The same friends, The same mindset, Bigger playgrounds.
A house replacing the room in their childhood homes.
I wonder if it's enough.
I sometimes realise quite unfortunately when meeting ghosts who once meant so much , that they dont mean so much to me, nor me to them.
A forgetten familiarity that doesn't quite seem to fit,
No matter how hard you want or try to force it.
I find I change all the time, and people , well they don't seem to like it.
Everyone get's so tied down to an idea or an instance and forget that I am neither of those things.
They forget that none of us are those things.
I find it hard. Stagnance.
I want to run when Im stuck and when I can't I wilt.
My mind and heart start to drift
Unless my soul finds my body I am somewhere else.
I live in this place, more or less,
Unless I am allowed to go somewhere else and be someone else.