when i was thirteen i couldn't wait to see who i would be at eighteen, thinking i'll have everything figured out and become everything i dreamed to be a more. eighteen felt like an impossible age to get to
when i was sixteen i knew i wouldn't make it past eighteen. i laid awake every night thinking of a date and how i would end it all, not wake up another day. i thought that i wouldn't get to see the impossible and things would never work out for me.
now i'm eighteen. the age of the impossible. and all i can really think is how did i get here? how aren't i still eighteen. how do i fill the empty hole in the middle of me, maybe with new activities and validation from strangers. maybe i can fill the hole with college classes and new hobbies. but no matter how many things i put inside of the pit, it's never filled. it's never enough to make myself valid or blow away the once thirteen year old who had high hopes for being an adult. still being alive breathing, living, doesn't impress sixteen year old me either, thinking that if i'm still alive i must have something better and greater in my life but i don't, i still cry most nights, i still feel like everyone hates me most days.
so how am i eighteen, living but not really. attending the future while not taking part of it. how am i this person suppose to be stronger then who i was just years ago. still like i was thirteen i dream of being mind blowing and still like i'm sixteen i know my world is ending before it even began.
YOU ARE READING
ranting for the world to see
General Fictionme ranting bc there's no other place for me to talk (huge tw for ed and talk of self off-ing)
