She's almost in her quarter-life year, and she still hasn't figured out what she wants to do with her life. She has dreams and goals, but she never acts on them. She's like a cliché story of a human afraid to fall. Always choosing the zone of comfort. She's such a perfectionist she refuses to even jump. She tells herself she is fine. She settles. She stays put. She continues to hope, though. Only hope. Never moves. But she almost always cannot stand it. She always finds herself wanting more, like the ambitious person she always thought she was. So she moves on, instead of actually making a move. She chooses from other thousand things she has in mind she wants to do too. Switching from one plan to another. Time and time again, she convinces herself that she's okay being just this. After all those years, she still thinks it's a phase that is going to pass. But more days come, even more people go, and nothing's changing. The only sure things gone are her youth, her drive, her motivation. She further builds the wall she created a long time ago. She's still frightened of the world.
Every night, she lies down for hours. She closes her eyes but she does not fall asleep. Her mind, always wandering around the corners of her thoughts in the dawn of night. She says, "human existence is short, and fragile. Full of hopes and regrets." She argues that she is among the 'everyone' who does not become what they dream. Then the wall that always stands quietly, never talking back, speaks, "Or perhaps, not everyone dreams hard enough to turn it into reality."
She's in her quarter life. She doesn't know how to do so many things, still. She stays away from people, still. But every morning, she still wakes up. She still drinks coffee while extremely thinking about life. It's a sad world. Very few are living. Millions are only existing. "How do you not get suck in a limbo big enough for the whole population of planet earth?" She's running out of time. But she gets by another day.
(c)
