Going with the Flow

I don’t know what to do, what to say, what to change, or when to do so. The weather is unbearably hot, and it makes me miss the rain. Cold weather was better, though it had its own bitterness. I hate summer because of the heat. Sure, it’s nice in some ways, but you don’t really feel like doing anything except staying at home. Winter is better because you can do so many things indoors without regretting not going outside.

I’m tired of doing nothing, but I’m also exhausted by the thought that soon I’ll have so much to do. Maybe it’s just a human thing because people tend to want what they don’t have. Like missing the sunshine when it rains, missing the snow when it’s hot, missing school once it’s over, and missing someone only when they’re gone. We don’t value things when we have them, only when we lose them. We can’t seem to be satisfied with what we have; we’re always looking for something else until we realize everything around us was fine. It’s just us who don’t want to be content with it.

As I get older, I’ve realized that age doesn’t really matter. My 14-year-old self was more mature than I am now. Things should’ve gotten better by now, but that’s not really the case. I wish I could get her back—she was more like an adult than I am at 18. She didn’t get what she wanted, even though she trusted me a lot, but I guess she wasted her time on me.

Maybe it’s because, in these past four years, I didn’t have the motivation she had back then. She thought her life was a mess, but when I look back, it wasn’t. But she didn’t know—no one told her she was already doing great. She always struggled and cried because she thought she wasn’t doing well. Maybe because no one told her, and she didn’t see it herself. Maybe that’s the reason for my situation now, isn’t it? But I shouldn’t blame her.

When the music stops, my mind starts racing with all these thoughts—the good and the bad. That’s why I prefer music without words, because most songs talk about love, heartbreak, or some other joy or sorrow that was never a part of my boring life. When the music starts, I create my own lyrics in my head that express my world. And once the music stops, I realize that I’m in this world. I hear people talk, I see them, and I hate people—not as human beings, but I hate the interactions because I don’t know how to act. I wish I could go to a place where I only hear the sound of the beach, the trees, and the birds in the sky. Then I might cry over the beautiful things I wasn’t able to appreciate before.

I’d say I’m vintage. I like letters and candles. I hate bright lights and how people’s words don’t seem to matter anymore, so they just make it short and say, “It’s not that deep.” Please, take me back to the days when the things that make me insecure now were admired back then.

I’ll keep it short for my last page and go with the flow for the rest of the day. I’ll come back again when I can finally say the world has changed, and the words aren’t the same. Then, I’ll look back and say this book was just a teenage phase, full of emotions and hesitation.