I’m 23.

23 and 16 days, almost 17 days.

I was born in 1995, 30th of March, if you do the math.

It was a rainy day of Tuesday, at least that’s how I like to imagine the day I was brought to this world, rainy. How could you otherwise explain that the only time I sleep well and peaceful is when it is raining? The rest of the nights, that are seemingly peaceful to you, for me, are actually filled with nightmares, fears and tears. Don’t worry, I’ve learned how to survive in my nightmares. I anticipate every painful thing thing that is about to happen. I’ve build empires, streets, lifes and different versions of me so I could survive these nights without crying. But from time to time I break. I usually break when someone close to me dies in my dreams. I cannot fight it when it happens, so I cry myself into unconsciousness. I cry or watch the TV until I shake of the feeling of death and loss.

Sometimes, I daydream, that one day, maybe, there will me someone to turn to when I wake up from my nightmares. It is hard to imagine that there is version of my life where I have someone I can be so comfortable and intimate to that I can ask for help in such a vulnerable moment. Somehow, it is extremely hard if not impossible for me to imagine something so natural, yet, it is so easy for me to build cities and such dreadful stories that I rather not tell.

This lack of vision for my future makes me feel like I’ve already lived everything that was destined for me to live. I cannot imagine my future therefore I feel like there is nothing left for me. Maybe I am old at soul or I’ve become old as a consequence of my exterior circumstances. Is that possible? To have lived in 23 years actually 60?!

I realize, if I rationalize my situation, there is so much more left that I could experience, that there are adventures, experiences, achievements, things to read and discover about the world around me and INSIDE ME! And.. I know there are countless (or not) possible love stories.

Yet! I feel old. And I feel heavy and not ready.

All those versions of me I won’t be able to be, weight terribly on my heart. Billions of words from thousands of stories I won’t live, add up heavily burdening my tiny restless soul.

This is how I feel today, tomorrow and yesterday.