I am really sick of my life whizzing past me. I wander off into my own little world for just a second, and suddenly, it’s 8 years later. I’m still doubtful that the past four years even happened. How did I wake up in the world? How did I get here? How are my brothers taller than me and my parents speckled with gray? What happened to the matriarchs of our family? How are they not here? 3 years ago when I would imagine my future, I would have never guessed that I’d live in the world I live in now. I would have never guessed so much could happen without being given the time to fully process it all.
Don’t get me wrong, I am happy in my ways. I’m happy with how things are going, and I’m happy with the direction my life could be leading. But when the hell did I get here, and why can’t I stop the time to enjoy it. I don’t like the shortness of life that is creeping into my reality increasingly so. It’s becoming normal, and I don’t like it. When I was in third grade, I wrote in my journal that I wanted to be a kid forever. I never really knew how right I really was until now. Please world, slow down for me. Stop making me run around all the time. Leaping from one milestone to the next. Allow me to appreciate what is right in front of me right now, for I know all too well how easily the floor beneath you can give out and crumble, crushing down on top of you. Let me be still in these moments, and never let me forget.