I can feel myself getting lost again and I fear that the familiarity of this sad sensation is one which is never fleeting. I crave seclusion as my mind wallows and I wish for distraction. I am constantly reminded that I am no longer a child as I fall backwards in this silly life. I feel insignificant in the shadows of those my own age. Societal pressures loom and tell me that as I am, I am not good enough. I cannot sit and think about my future without feeling silenced and blind.
The man I love wants me to live with him, but I am so fearful that if I move into his home I will become comfortable and unable to take the necessary steps to secure my own life. Others whisper and tell me that I can’t love him, but again my age deceives me and rather than feeling inadequate, I feel that there is still so much time to find what love really is. I have spent too many days disassembling my guarded ways in an attempt to learn how to express myself to my most intimate counterpart. I cannot assume everything to have been a waste of time. I love him like I love my closest friends, and sometimes I think he knows me better than any of them do. Still I stay mute as I have never heard him utter the words I crave to hear the most, and it is with that I know, I am still not in love.
These paths blur together as one long road and no longer can I determine which to stray down next. Sleep is not a long enough rest from my constantly spinning mind. I am overwhelmed with only hands to hold; I need a shove in the right direction.