turning 21 (Completed)

foreword

At this point in my life where I'm taking another step further away from my youthful days, it seems I have found the truth of getting older: happiness becomes temporary, sadness likes to dwell long, rent-free. 21 is surely still young, but at the same time, quite old age. You could stumble upon shiny stones and keep it all, but as soon as you overlooked a big, dark rock and tripped over it, all those you've kept spills out of your pockets—broken and the only thing left to do is to mourn for it. It's a cycle that never ends between contentment and grieving phases, but the latter feels longer than the other one.

Back then, I used to feel like the future was so near, easy to foretell in the palm of my hands. But, for the past few months, I wake up to see myself on a rough road that fades into thick smoke. It's so vague what's ahead that it shakes my knees with anxiety and fear. Everyone seems to be getting stronger and bolder each day, while I stand like a withering tree on the edge of the concrete path, feeling like I'm nearing some kind of collapse. Everyday, I wonder: why do I keep regressing? Why am I in this recurring relapses? Am I bound to be a weakling after all?

Lately, in my mind, I cannot dodge those flashes of memories from the past, when my life was still no good, but just better than I have today. A symptom of aging, perhaps, where days are filled with a hint of reminiscing yesterday and almost wanting to travel back to relive those moments. A coping mechanism, maybe, to escape the reality I am facing now. Being mocked. Feeling betrayed. Getting tired of adoring. The currents of this modern life seemed blood-draining, something I did not grow up with.

21 is surely another open door. Yet, not so exciting, and never might be the succeeding ones. I hope to see the sunshine as I enter this adulthood. I really hope so.

Sincerely,

Jayvie