A portrait.
My childhood memories are just blurs. I don't remember everything in specific details.
Btu when I was 8 years olds,
I was happy.
That much I remember.
I still remember my first day of school, like a vivid dream. I was so excited and anxious.
I didn't worry about how I looked, and how much I weighed, I didn't care about being really loud or about my social skills. Impressing people was on the bottom of my list.
I was genuinely happy.
I never walked, I constantly danced around the house, sprinting my way to school and skipping all the way home.
Everything exited me and aroused my curiosity.
I used to bring my mom a flower everyday.
I sang whenever I could,
I painted all the time and I always hanged my simple drawings on the walls of my room with pride and an immense sense of satisfaction, they weren't near good, but I couldn't care less.
Then I turned 16,
I don't remember how it happened, sometimes it feels like I've leaped into this age.
I shed my old self, and became someone else.
I started seeing the world for what it really was.
I learned the real reason behind my mom's tears.
I started noticing the tired lines that sneaked their way into my father's face.
I looked at the mirror and I didn't like what I saw.
I looked down at the scale and grimaced at the number, as if I failed some sort of an exam.
I skipped meals and occasionally cried myself to sleep.
as if my habits morphed into other potent desires,
I stopped doing many of the things I enjoyed, and I can't find a reason for it.
None of my friends knew I could sing, I stopped picking flowers to give them to mom, and the last time I painted was years ago.
and now I'm in my early 20's
and I am not sure of anything,
both lost and lonely.
I don't know what to do, should I wait till I figure everything out, till the right way reveals itself to me? or should I take all the risks I can take until I find it?
Nothing is as easy or as simple as you think it is.
The older I get the heavier the weight on my shoulders gets, the tighter my ribs get. There is merely a room for my lungs to expand and for my heart to beat.
I guess it's just my need to matter.
my thrive to succeed.
the constant urge to know more and to explore more.
to devour the universe.
I don't even understand where are these needs coming from.
I don't understand myself sometimes.
Everything I do and aspire to be is to add value and purpose to my life, to my existence.
aren't we all the same?
we want to be the world to someone because the thought of our insignificance and unimportance is killing us.
we want to love and to be loved
we want to make a change that counts.
we want to understand.
to the points that attempts are not enough, trying is of no avail.
and I guess, this life isn't enough.
it will never be enough for me.
The child in me is dead,
I'm afraid that years later, I'll look back and I'll find the young version of myself dead too.
and that I'll be nothing but a shell of what I was before, an empty hollow figure, moving around, going through with my obligations, always waiting for good things to happen.
and if anyone would ask me what's my worst fear is, I'd answer this wasting my life.
Btu when I was 8 years olds,
I was happy.
That much I remember.
I still remember my first day of school, like a vivid dream. I was so excited and anxious.
I didn't worry about how I looked, and how much I weighed, I didn't care about being really loud or about my social skills. Impressing people was on the bottom of my list.
I was genuinely happy.
I never walked, I constantly danced around the house, sprinting my way to school and skipping all the way home.
Everything exited me and aroused my curiosity.
I used to bring my mom a flower everyday.
I sang whenever I could,
I painted all the time and I always hanged my simple drawings on the walls of my room with pride and an immense sense of satisfaction, they weren't near good, but I couldn't care less.
Then I turned 16,
I don't remember how it happened, sometimes it feels like I've leaped into this age.
I shed my old self, and became someone else.
I started seeing the world for what it really was.
I learned the real reason behind my mom's tears.
I started noticing the tired lines that sneaked their way into my father's face.
I looked at the mirror and I didn't like what I saw.
I looked down at the scale and grimaced at the number, as if I failed some sort of an exam.
I skipped meals and occasionally cried myself to sleep.
as if my habits morphed into other potent desires,
I stopped doing many of the things I enjoyed, and I can't find a reason for it.
None of my friends knew I could sing, I stopped picking flowers to give them to mom, and the last time I painted was years ago.
and now I'm in my early 20's
and I am not sure of anything,
both lost and lonely.
I don't know what to do, should I wait till I figure everything out, till the right way reveals itself to me? or should I take all the risks I can take until I find it?
Nothing is as easy or as simple as you think it is.
The older I get the heavier the weight on my shoulders gets, the tighter my ribs get. There is merely a room for my lungs to expand and for my heart to beat.
I guess it's just my need to matter.
my thrive to succeed.
the constant urge to know more and to explore more.
to devour the universe.
I don't even understand where are these needs coming from.
I don't understand myself sometimes.
Everything I do and aspire to be is to add value and purpose to my life, to my existence.
aren't we all the same?
we want to be the world to someone because the thought of our insignificance and unimportance is killing us.
we want to love and to be loved
we want to make a change that counts.
we want to understand.
to the points that attempts are not enough, trying is of no avail.
and I guess, this life isn't enough.
it will never be enough for me.
The child in me is dead,
I'm afraid that years later, I'll look back and I'll find the young version of myself dead too.
and that I'll be nothing but a shell of what I was before, an empty hollow figure, moving around, going through with my obligations, always waiting for good things to happen.
and if anyone would ask me what's my worst fear is, I'd answer this wasting my life.
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