Sometimes I feel as if I’m alive and breathing, but not there. I find myself clearing the smile from my face the moment someone looks away, my answers becoming shorter and my laughter a little bit more forced everyday. I keep staring into space, lost in this little world of loneliness and sadness I’ve unintentionally built for myself over the years. I want to be around people, but only a certain kind- people who will comfort me and tell me everything will be alright, because I’m not so sure it will be anymore. When people ask me what’s wrong, I just tell them I’m tired, knowing that they could never understand. I don’t feel like myself, you know? I don’t feel comfortable in my skin, almost as if it’s not mine. It’s like I’m inhabiting this empty shell, deprived of soul and creativity. Things I used to love I don’t anymore, my dreams fading like ink off of flesh. I’m scared of so much, but also couldn’t care less at the same time. I know I’m loved and I know that people care, but it’s almost like I don’t care that they do anymore. I need more than this world can give me, however odd that may sound. It’s like I’m in this native land, trying to find my way home, wherever that may be. Slowly at first, and then all too quickly, the world became dark.
And it was there, in that moment, as I lifted the glass orb to my eye, that my reflection betrayed a frightening image of the future. No longer would youth and courage be my sword and shield, the fragility of a life now spent, sat in their place. I felt now, for the first time the ticking of life’s clock, the unyielding pendulum that serves with each swing to draw us ever closer to eternity’s inevitable maw; an all-consuming blackness that welcomes us home with a specious grin, completing the circle of our existence. In time I fear I may become accustomed to this new and unwelcome vision, but for now I must accept, like countless other have, that this is growing up. Right?