I turned 22 on 22nd October this year and I’ve been intending to write a post about it ever since… but oh… my lazy self.
I TURNED 22 ON 22!! ALRIGHT!! I’M ALLOWED TO BE EXCITED ABOUT IT AND I’M ALLOWED TO NOT POST ABOUT IT UNTIL AFTER A WEEK RIGHT??? RIGHT??
(*whispers to self* Sit down Srish, you’re looking stupid! )
Okay I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m writing. Alright, back to the subject, hmm…
So what’s changed between 21 and 22?
Nothing. And everything.
Every year it’s like “Oh it’s my birthday… I’m officially an year older but do I really feel older?”
“Yes, of course, I feel older and wiser.”
This year, the answer is YES! This year it genuinely feels like 22.
I’m wiser than 21. I’m sillier than 23.
I’ve never felt more myself than I’m feeling now. At 22.
Light as a feather, drifting away with the wind,
Or lost in space, floating to the ends of the galaxy,
Or fierce like a dragon, ruling the mountains,
Or swimming in the depths of my own childhood memories
I live in my dreams,
away from the confined realities.
Where I’m free.
Where I’m infinite.
And the nightmares that haunt me,
I’ve accepted as my own,
At least they make me aware of every breath I take,
With those demons I have grown.
They don’t scare me,
half as much as those dreamless slumbers.
Making me oblivious of the world,
Of my own existence,
Taking away everything I’ve ever known,
in an instant.
Yet I know, it’ll swallow me one day,
into its eternal darkness,
which makes me think,
maybe I’m not afraid of loosing myself,
maybe I’m just afraid of waking up.
From this beautiful dream which I so like to call a confined reality.
Maybe this is all I get, to fly and to be free,
to be humane and to be fierce,
to be one thing at a time,
or to be everything at once.
And I’m not ready to let this go,
my dreams, my deliriums
I’m not ready,
to wake up yet.
I claim no rights on the picture used above.