Ever since whispered chronicles, I’ve resorted more to typing in my notes app, instead of what brings me most comfort. As I realise too much of what I write I am unwilling to expose and I cannot expose, till I resort to not writing at all.
As Christmas approaches, I realise how dread is the unwillingness to face the stark reality of unfamiliarity of the people I once held so dear, so basically I want to run away and keep myself sheltered and temporarily content in this little town. I’m losing my sense of belonging to anyplace as I envision myself in my twenties, a brand-new person living elsewhere, my closest friends mostly compiled of people I’ve haven’t met, a whole new mindset, everything will be so utterly different that I don’t want to accept this impermanence because it makes me feel like all current efforts are futile. Maybe it’s the exact purpose of this blog; I’d probaby look back laughing at my own immaturity and naievity, yet hoping to be in this exact place in life.
People often reminisce their teenage years, at least there’s this pressure that these years ought to be the most fullfilling years you can never relive with such passion and youth, yet I need deliberation to comprehend how these years ought to be the most confusing, and struggles seem much more apparent and sensible than glamours. At the stage when your values are solidifying, but still malleable to all so doubts and insecurities feed in seamlessly, or you do manage to indentify your desires, but you lack the concrete space and ability to let it fledge, or this mini shadow of society is simply inadequate to equip you with tools for your newfound aspiratons and imaginations. It’s the time when there’s the most conflict, your inner self and outer surroundings, friendship, family, when everyone grows at various paces, I just can’t help but want to be ahead, perpetuating this cycle of competition and comparison. It’s also when romance first factors in, you have no prior experience and you’re forced to process these new emotions that often come in tides- there’s no control over whether it envelops you, or messes you up, often the latter. You learn the most about yourself, your vulnerabilities, passion, morals, you create an image of the person you want to be. Someone too far away from the person you are right now.
Brutal truths force their way in- your childhood has ended before you’ve had the chance to mourn it’s loss; it’s probably best to keep a bit of distance, reveal less, protect more; it’s much more convenient to be well-liked than nonchalant; no one can fully empathise with anyone; the small pieces that eventually puzzle up to a prudent, boring adult. Not the person I imagined.
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