I started to lose count when the last time I practice my French — was it 2 months ago? 2 years? I used to say that I will go to the first concert of my whole life for my 20th birthday, referring to the saving I have been doing for hell knows since when. Now I use things until they ran out.
I used to know how to do with my time and never let any of my hours be wasted. There were 10 alarms on my phone; why aren’t any of them ringing now? I used to curse at myself for not getting things done by 2 PM and wonder how could 24 hours be enough for anyone, now I’m wandering with my thoughts at 2 AM, wide awake. Can’t even remember what I did 3 hours ago. Was it staring at the cushions again? Ceilings?
I lose track of what should I do in a day. I don’t know where my life will be headed — I used to have rows of things to do, places to go, plans to achieve. I used to long for each of things shine and bright. I don’t know what I want now.
I lost after years of having the shiniest wheel. Now I’m just wasting my days, killing each hour hoping I will soon get to the place when this is over. I don’t even know what is it that I’m waiting to stop. (I can’t even use the word ‘spending days’ anymore. I am not using my days.)
I don’t know who I expect to meet in the future. The image of her used to be very clear, very brave, but now she is kind of muddly. Too far away. I don’t even sure if I know her as myself 5 years ago wouldn’t recognize the today me either. Does she happy? Does she deranged? Does she even alive?
I used to say to myself that I should hang on. Hang on, hang on… the 20 years old you is waiting and she is happy, contended with her life. She is waiting for you. I haven’t found her yet.
How old I am now? (I am 20. I don’t know if I’m happy.) I started to lose count.
