When I was six years old, I loved blizzards. Mainly because school was canceled. I use to sit at home, watch Lion King (probably for the 38th time) while eating only the marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box pretending they were bugs; re-in acting the scene when Timon offered Simba a caterpillar to eat and he goes “slimy, yet satisfying”.
When I reached the age of eight, I started cursing. That shit felt so liberating. I mean, I knew it was wrong to do and I cringed every time I did it but after a while I was so fluent. I started listening to songs that actually had and have longevity till today.
Nine years old and I finally mastered how to ride a two-wheeler. And fuck this helmet; I haven’t felt this cool in an entire while and this thing protecting my brain makes me look stupid as shit…but mostly uncool. I really started cursing at nine.
At 14 I fell in love. A “me, thinking of you, thinking of me, thinking of you” type of love. Life felt like Summer time everyday during those times. But nothing was warmer than my heart. The ice cream truck melody wasn’t annoying anymore. The radio played the best songs. Holding hands gave you goosebumps.
At 14, I fell out of love. That shit must’ve hurt.
16, it was the year every girl in school was turning 16 and sweet sixteen invitations were roaming every hallway of your high school. It was so easy to make friends then. It was so easy to lose them too, especially when your MySpace top 8 represented where you stood as a friend. God I miss those senseless days.
And then I was 18. I fell in love for real this time. I’m an adult. I know what’s right from wrong. Nothing can go wrong, I have the perfect mindset.
A month into being 18 and my life is already in shambles. I’m fucking up in college. I’m fighting a lot in my relationship. A lot of questionable friendships. Life can’t get any harder than this. I need to do something to keep me occupied. Cannabis, perhaps?
21 – I fell out of love. That shit must’ve hurt.
Ah, 23. I fell in love and I am so for real this time. And fuck, I needed to graduate soon. I’m like a super, super senior. Maybe switching majors three years ago was a dumb idea. If I stuck with what I was doing in the first place, I would have been out. Momma would have been proud. All this stress is fogging up my vision and the light at the end of the tunnel is no longer visible. Where is my drive?
I’m 25 years old, a quarter of a century. I fell out of love. That shit hurt.
Today I’m 26. I fell in love again. With myself. I’m gonna get me into better shape. Financially, academically, mentally…everythingly. I love my friends. I love my family. They make my heart warm. They always did. I’m still wandering but I’m not that directionless. And at this very moment, that’s all that counts to me. I’m desperately waiting for my future –hopefully with good news, pure positivity and love.
You ever just can’t sleep at night sometimes? So you stay up and think…about everything? Like literally everything. And you start planning your life? Making promises to yourself about how you’re gonna change for the better and as soon as you wake up tomorrow things are gonna be different. But then tomorrow you just wake up, tired as shit, with zero cares because you’re tired? And you’re tired all day. Then you make another promise to yourself that as soon as you get home, you’re gonna go to bed early. And eventually you do get home but Twitter and Instagram is just too fucking entertaining at the moment. One more hour on my phone won’t hurt, right? And eventually…its a 360? Hate that shit.
But it’s 2:33 in the morning and I can’t sleep. So I wrote all the shit I think about. Well, maybe not all. But a gist of things. But yo, writing is an experience. I seriously want to write about everything sometimes but, you know. Less is more and whatever. On that note: bless.