Being in 20’s feels like hiding a bucket in the middle of the desert

And why am I even holding this?

I’m an adult. No, I am not. I am still cherishing the child inside me who likes to watch cartoons, who cried when Steve in Blues Clues came back. The child inside me is rotting away. Time is a flesh eating monster, and it’s devouring my insides.

I still have time, or so I thought. I’m a procrastinator. I’m a multitasker. I hate myself. I’m so good at completing this mundane task.

I think if this society didn’t require school I’d learn much more. I just want to create. Wait, I just want to write. Wait, what am I thinking again? Oh boy, I am also an overthinker.

There are days that I feel like I’m becoming my dad, but I want to be better than him. I want someone to cradle me and hug me tightly, but I also want to be alone with myself with no one. I am 21 and I realize that my life won’t be the same anymore, I, won’t be the same anymore.
But, ain’t that what I wished for?

To be different.

To not be the same.

To break the cycle.

To hold a bucket in the middle of the desert even if I look stupid….


just a casual writer dreaming of closure in life

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