It's a rush of emotions that I can't even begin to explain. I don't think I want to explain because if I do it might get to me. And I don't want it to get to me. I don't want to realize. I don't want it to sink in. Because it mustn't. Because it can't be. Sometimes I want life to be easier. Sometimes I wish I was still a child. Because then I wouldn't know any better. Because then life is still one big game, and there are no responsibilities. Nothing to keep you back. There is no reality. Sometimes I can't face reality. I'd like to close my eyes and pretend it isn't there. That's much easier to deal with. Sometimes I feel life is passing me by way too fast. There's still so many things I want to do, visit and see. But I must start facing reality now because that's the way it is. I'm a grown up person now. I think I'm stuck. Everyone around me seems to be doing just fine at life. Acing everything. And here I am, not having a clue what I'm doing. What am I doing?
What do I want to do? Honestly I don't know. Everyone seems to be settling down, going places, doing things. Succeeding in life. And where am I? I don't know. It feels like I'm trying but I'm not getting anywhere. Everything just stays the same. I don't like it when things stay the same. It gets boring after a while. I want change, I want adventure, I want adrenaline rushing through my veins. I want to see things, I want to visit places far, far away from home. But where is my home? I don't think my home is here. The people I love are my home. Whether they're in my country or another one, as long as they are with me, that's the only thing that matters.
I'm hoping that in due time I will finally realize what I want. But I'm restless, and I have always been that way. I'm not sure if it ever is going to be enough. If I won't always grow tired of things. Maybe I'm always going to want something new, something exciting, something exhilarating. I'm not sure. One week I want to do something so bad, the other week I've forgotten about it and I want to do something else. I've got dozens of ideas in my mind but I don't have the means to work them out. So I just keep on dreaming. That's what I'm good at. I have plenty of dreams, and they keep me going. I don't want to be realistic, even though it's probably time for me to see things the way they really are. But I'm never going to give up on my dreams because they keep me going. What's life without dreams to live for? A void, numb, senseless existence. That's not the kind of life I want to live. Maybe I am a dreamer, so what? I'd rather be a dreamer than a realist without anything to hope for. Even if I know they won't ever come true; dreams are my oxygen.