There’s been a common theme in the conversations I’ve been having recently. Passing time, growing old, and what we lose along the way. That sound’s a little melodramatic. It is.
At the ripe old age of 22, I don’t feel the same as I did just a year ago. I feel like I’ve aged more in the last few months than I have in the last few years. Or maybe I’ve just started to notice. I wake up tired and perfectly capable of sleeping into the next morning. I can’t tolerate as much junk food and I need more sleep and my back aches, I’m basically an 80-year old man.
But it’s not just the physical toll, it’s the mental and emotional toll, too. Creativity is hard nowadays, and that sucks to admit. I think I’ve forgotten how to be myself and forgotten what I’m like—forgotten what I like. I feel stifled and a little lost. Maybe it’s the fact that I graduate in a year giving me anxiety. Or maybe this is just the way I am, the way I’ve become as a result of the last four years of heartbreak, heartache, and grief.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or at least that’s what they say. But it’s more like what doesn’t kill you almost kills you.
I have some time before I have to get back to the grind at school, so let’s see what these next few months bring me. Here’s to discovering, and re-discovering, some stuff about myself.